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sanguineterrain · 10 months

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redamancy | steve harrington

Summary: redamancy (n.) - the act of loving someone who loves you back; a love returned in full // or, four times you kissed Steve Harrington, and one time he finally kissed you back.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings/tags: friends to lovers, 5+1 fic format, no use of y/n, FLUFF, PINING PINING, injured s4 steve, hospital setting, general vecna angst (eddie's alive bc i will never kill eddie in my fics), bed sharing, happy ending, and kissing. if that wasn't clear. :)

A/N: fun fact: this is the first time i've written a 5+1 fic! technically it's 4+1 but whatevs. if you enjoy this fic, please give it a reblog and support your local steve harrington tumblrina.

divider by firefly-graphics

i. the promise

"Would you ever get married?"

You open your eyes. The setting sun nearly blinds you through the windshield. Immediately, you stick out a hand to block it.

You're still reclined all the way back in the passenger seat, because Steve's fancy schmancy BMW can do that. He frequently lectures you about doing it while he's driving. Have I taught you nothing? Road safety!

"I mean, I guess so," you say. "If someone ever wants to put a ring on me."

You sit up and pull down the sun visor. Steve turns. His hair lightens in the summer, shades of reddish blond peeking through. He insists his hair has never been anything but brown, fiercely pledging his allegiance to brunettes. You coo at his highlights all the same.

"I want to," he says after a minute. "I wanna get married."

You're parked down the block from your house. You should've gotten out ten minutes ago, but there's never any rush when you're with Steve.

"The line to wed you will be out the door, champ," you say around a grin.

"Hm. I dunno." He stretches in his seat. "Maybe if I was the same guy I was a few years ago."

You wrinkle your nose. "I doubt that."

"But what can I really offer?" he continues. "I'm just some guy who can't get into college."

"That doesn't mean no one will marry you. Some people who go to college are dumber than dirt. They get married. College has nothing to do with it. You can go, if you really want to. One rejection doesn't say anything about you, Steve."

"I guess."

You pull the lever on the side. The seat shoots up with a brrrap! It clicks as you straighten.

"Where did all this come from, anyway?" you ask.

Steve shrugs. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous."

He smiles. "I like to live on the edge."

"Contemplating marriage like the world's biggest sap. Definitely edgy."

Steve hums. His hands are in his lap. He picks at a cuticle, a habit he’s recently developed. You wonder why he’s so anxious.

"Two people from our graduating class got married last week."

Your eyes widen. "You're kidding."

"Nope. Lisa Schell and Gary Brewer."

"Wait, didn't she cheat on him?"

"Yeah, but he slept with her sister, so I guess they called it even."

You shake your head. "That's insane. They're literally babies, Steve. That's like Dustin getting married."

Steve scowls. "He's not allowed to get married before me."

"Not even to his possibly fictional Suzie?"

"Not even to her."

You stare at the freckles on Steve's face and how his frizz kind of looks like a halo in the light. You imagine the feel of his hair in your hands, the warmth of his scalp.

"I'd marry you," you say.

Steve's eyebrows shoot up.

"What?"

"Like, if you were in a pinch."

He looks at you sideways. You flatten, then scrunch your hands over your knees. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth.

"I'm talking about spending the rest of my life with someone, you know. Not borrowing fifty bucks."

"Fifty bucks is a lot of money for some of us, Harrington."

"That’s probably how much Lisa's wedding dress cost."

"I hope she kept the receipt."

Silence descends. A soft breeze blows through your cracked window. You want to search Steve's glove box for gum, but you've just told him you'd marry him, so you can't do anything except think about the fact that those words came out of your mouth.

"Are you…" Steve begins, then pauses. "Why did you say that?"

"Because you're worried, for some incomprehensible reason, that no one will marry you."

"I scoop ice cream for a living."

You level him with a look.

"Steve. We're kids. Cut yourself some slack."

His eyes turn hollow. They've been doing that lately. You wish you knew why.

"I don't really feel like a kid these days," he says.

Something about the way Steve sounds makes you want to climb over the console and curl into him, cradle his head to your neck. Which is crazy. You guys don't do that. Steve isn't yours to do that with.

"Let's make a pact," you say softly.

He meets your eye. "A pact?"

"Mmhm. Let's say if both of us aren't married by… thirty, then we'll get married."

"Well, I don't want a pity marriage."

You roll your eyes. "It's not a pity marriage, Steve."

"Thirty is so late! You really think I won't be married by then?" he asks.

"No, I don't think that. I already said folks will be lined up to marry you," you say.

"I can't wait till I'm thirty."

"Or you'll turn into an old maid?"

"Meh meh meh," he mocks without any heat.

You purse your lips so you don't smile. "Fine. We'll split the difference. Twenty-four?"

Steve considers that. Really considers it. It suddenly occurs to you what you're promising and who you're promising it to. You wonder if you'll both forget about it. Or brush it off. Oh, what did we know? We were kids!

Except Steve doesn't feel like a kid. And maybe you don't either, as much as you wish you do.

"Do you mean it?" he asks.

"Of course I do."

"No, seriously." He's serious. "I mean it, so if you don't…"

"Steve, I said I mean it. I do."

"You'll marry me?"

"I will."

"Swear on it."

You hold out your right pinkie out, waiting. Steve hooks his finger over yours. Impulsively, you kiss your linked pinkies. To show that you really, truly mean it.

You try to picture it. What walking down the aisle to meet Steve at the altar would feel like. You wonder if he'd keep his hair long, like it is now. You like it long. Would he keep it long for you?

"Will you buy me a ring?" you ask. "If we get married, I mean."

"Of course I'd buy you a ring," Steve says. "I'd get you anything you wanted."

"Okay." Your heart hammers in your chest. "I'm gonna go home."

"Alright. Want me to pull up to the door?"

"No, it's fine. Walking is good for digestion. Those milkshakes were no joke."

Steve smiles. He has such a lovely smile. His Cupid's bow is shaped exactly like a heart.

"Same time tomorrow? It's movie night."

Right. Your movie night. A semi-regular occasion that includes you, Steve, Robin, and the kids, sometimes. You've watched at least a dozen movies this summer together. Only this time, you're watching a movie after promising to marry Steve.

"Sounds good," you say. "Will you pick me up?"

"Always."

Another promise. You hadn't realized how many Steve makes to you.

"'Kay. See you."

You get out. Steve waves as he pulls away from the curb.

Your ring finger feels bare. You rub it, hoping the feeling will go away.

ii. the wound

The plastic chair has turned your legs numb. Your butt is about to follow.

Can butts go numb? You're not sure. You'll find out soon, though.

You rub your eyes. God, you need sleep.

Across the room, you catch Joyce Byers' gaze. She smiles at you, though it's brittle. You try to smile back, feeling distinctly like you might break if you stretch your mouth too far.

She looks away, and your not-smile falls.

"They'll let us in soon," she says, like she knows. She does know. Better than you, certainly.

The hospital smells cold. It smells like a place people go to die.

Your heartbeat ratchets. You shouldn't think like that.

"You don't understand," comes Dustin's voice. He's at the receptionist's desk, flanked by Mike and Lucas. Dustin's face is red and blotchy, near tears.

"I need to see him. You won't let me see Eddie, so—"

The receptionist rears back, like she can't believe three children are daring to speak to her.

"Neither patient is cleared for visitors," she says icily. "Now, for the last time: have a seat."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joyce begin to stand, ready to herd the kids away. You beat her to it. Out of everyone in this room, you're probably the only person who has the strength to stand.

"Guys, c'mon. It won't be long."

They don't look at you. You don't take it personally. An hour earlier, you'd cornered Dustin and forced him to tell you what happened. What's been happening.

So he did. And now you're here.

You don't blame them for glaring at the prickly receptionist. But you know that won't do anything. It won't heal Steve quicker. And it won't make anybody feel better.

"Hey, Dustin." You lay a hand on his shoulder. He looks at you like you're not Steve. You wish it was you in surgery instead.

"Come sit," you say.

"I need to see him," he tells you.

"I know." Your throat tightens, threatening to trap your words altogether. You rush to get the rest out. "I do too. But this isn't going to make that happen faster. Come sit with me. Okay?"

"He'll be fine," Mike says quietly. "They don't wanna get sued by his asshole dad."

You nod, because yeah, good point. Quite possibly the first time Richard Harrington has brought anybody comfort. He's in Cancun, last you'd heard. You hope he chokes on a margarita.

Dustin follows you. Mike and Lucas sit next to Joyce. The five of you wait.

At some point, you fall asleep. When you wake up, it's to the contentious receptionist peering over you all.

"Mr. Harrington is awake," she says primly. "You may see him now, young man."

Dustin flies out of the chair, Lucas and Mike at his heels.

A part of you wants to go home, and you feel terrible for it. You feel terrible that Steve almost died, but you're the frightened one. You don't know if you can bear to see him tied to tubes and a heart monitor.

"Go on."

Joyce tracks you sleepily. Her hair is more knotted than before you fell asleep. She nods to the hallway.

"Go see him."

You can’t voice every thought, every fear. I don’t know if I can see him like this.

“It’s good he won’t wake up alone,” she says.

“He’s got a family.” You wave your hand weakly.

Joyce watches you for a moment. Then she gets up.

"Yes, he does."

She holds out her hand.

You don’t know Joyce Byers very well. This is probably the longest conversation you’ve had with her. You realize, then, that you're wrong—you’re not the one who’s strong enough to stand.

“Let’s go see him,” she says. "All of his loved ones should be there."

God, are you really that obvious?

You take her hand, and the two of you go down the hall.

Steve is nearly unrecognizable in the hospital bed. The kids are speaking to him, unusually quiet. They look up when you enter.

Steve’s eyes lock with yours.

“Hey,” is all you say.

“Hi,” he says, voice rough with disuse and getting choked by what Dustin had described as demon bats.

“Boys, come on,” Joyce calls. “Let’s make a cafeteria stop.”

You see Dustin about to protest, but Lucas tugs his arm like he knows, and goddamn, you really are that obvious, aren’t you?

You wait for the door to close behind you. Then you walk to Steve’s side.

The gnarled ring of flesh around his neck makes you queasy. The rest of him isn’t much better, red and purple smeared across any skin that’s not covered by the chalky hospital gown.

You sit in the chair. It’s the same plastic kind as the ones in the waiting room, but this one doesn’t feel so hard.

“Robin called me,” you say.

Steve closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you’d better be.” Your voice cracks. “Can’t believe you went dimension-surfing without me.”

“You’re mad at me.”

Your breath is punched out of you.

“No,” you say softly. “My God, Steve. I’m not mad at you.”

His hand creeps to the edge of the bed. His fingers are scraped.

You take his hand and lace your fingers together. He slow-blinks. He’ll probably fall asleep in the next half hour.

“It’s okay if you are,” he whispers. “Mad, I mean. I’d be mad too.”

You know he wouldn’t be, though. You know Steve would forgive you in a heartbeat.

“I’m not mad,” you say, equally as quiet. “I just… I was scared."

He nods. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

You bow your head and close your eyes. When Robin had called, you'd run to the bathroom and coughed up stomach acid.

They say he’ll make it, she'd told you, and you'd realized with violent clarity that you love him.

But Steve doesn't need that right now. So you bury it.

You lean in and bring Steve's knuckles to your lips, taking care not to jostle him.

His eyes widen. Part of you hopes he won’t remember this conversation.

"Don't do that again," you say. “Not without me.”

"Okay,” he whispers. “I won't."

You wait until he falls asleep, hand in his.

iii. the brand

“There’s no way I’m getting in your death van, Munson!” Robin whines.

“Death van is an exaggeration, Buckley. If anything, it’s a life van. I’m still here, aren’t I?” Eddie asks.

“Definitely not because of that heap of metal,” Steve murmurs to you. You snicker.

It’s nearly dark, but a summer dark, where it doesn’t actually turn to night until well after nine PM. The top two buttons of Steve’s dress shirt are undone, and you can’t stop staring. It’s embarrassing, really. You’d nearly missed Eddie’s walk across the stage because of that damned triangle of tanned skin and dark chest hair.

“Why can’t we take the station wagon?” Robin asks.

“I think Nancy already left,” you say. “Sorry, Rob.”

“And I’ve put my car jacking days behind me,” Eddie announces, flinging his arms out. “So my van it shall be!”

Robin whips her head around to glare at Steve.

“This is your fault,” she accuses scathingly.

“Me?!”

“You just had to go and get a flat tire yesterday.”

“Yeah, Steve,” you add cheekily. “Why couldn’t you have foreseen the dreaded timeline where Eddie drives?”

“Et tu?” Eddie asks. “I’m hurt. I’m a great driver, y’know. Better than Steve, some have told me.”

“Dustin only told you that ‘cause you were high on morphine and about to burst into tears,” Robin says.

As they bicker, Steve draws closer, so your arms brush. You close the distance, crowding him.

“Y’okay?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” you say, startled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just checking.”

“Are you okay?”

He turns to you. He looks like he’s searching for something. You don’t know what.

“Yeah,” Steve says after a minute. “I am. Better than, actually.”

“‘Cause I’m here, right?” you ask with a gooey grin.

“Yeah. ‘Cause you’re here.”

He sounds honest, so you turn away, because you can’t handle that and his chest hair.

"I should get to choose where we go," Robin says as you arrive at Eddie's van. "Since it may be our last trip and all."

"Funny you were in Band and not president of the drama club, Buckley," Eddie says dryly.

"Pot, kettle."

"How 'bout Rita's?" you suggest. "Unlimited refills and no one will hassle Eddie."

"Aw, you care about little ol' me?" Eddie asks.

"If you get us there in one piece, yes."

Eddie huffs. "No wonder you and the Hair are like this." He crosses his fingers.

"Damn right," Steve says. "We even finish each other's—"

"Terribly cliche sayings!" you say.

Robin looks at you for a moment, unusually smirky. Then she looks at Steve.

"You match. Blue dress, blue tie."

"That's so if she gets lost, they know who to return her to," Steve says.

You scoff. "More like the other way around."

He pouts. "Hey."

"Hay is for horses," you sing, skipping ahead to Eddie's van.

"I'm sorry, are you excited to ride in the Hell Van?" Robin asks.

You shrug. "We could use some excitement around here, couldn't we?"

"No!" all three say.

"I've had enough excitement for ten lifetimes," Robin mutters.

Eddie pulls the door open. Your smile quickly drops.

"Uh, Eddie? Where the fuck are the seats?"

"Right, so, usually I only have Gareth and Jeff ride with me. Gareth always calls shotgun—"

"Shotgun!" Robin hollers, and races to the front seat.

You stare at the single backseat chair. There's no way it's big enough for you and Steve.

"Holy shit," Steve says, taking stock of the "backseat."

Eddie rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah… listen, if I'd known we'd be taking her, I would've put the other seat in, swear! Usually we take it out for the equipment."

"Well, what are we supposed to do? Lay down and pray? This is how people get head injuries, Eddie," you say, arms folded.

"Maybe we can call a cab," Steve suggests.

"At this hour?" You shake your head. "No way. This isn't Indianapolis."

"Oh my God." Robin groans. "The solution is so obvious. Sit on Steve's lap. Boom. Now come on, I'm starving."

You tense. Steve is tactile, sure, and you've become acclimated to that over the years.

But this? This is way, way beyond that.

"Uh…" Steve glances at you. "Do you… I mean, if you don't mind?"

You glance at Eddie, who's got the tiniest smirk. You glower and he clears his throat, hiding his mouth behind a lock of hair.

"I don't mind," you say, more confident than you feel. "It's a short drive."

Eddie nods. "Definitely. I'll step on it."

"Please don't step on it," Robin calls. "We're already chancing fate by letting you drive in the first place."

Eddie huffs, walking to the driver's side. "Y'know, Buckley, you are just…"

You look at Steve. He smiles at you, sweet as always.

"This isn't gonna aggravate any injuries, right?" you ask. "Me… sitting on you?"

You wince at the wording.

"No, should be fine. My PT gave me the all clear a month ago."

You nod tightly. "Right. Okay. You go first."

Steve climbs in, planting his feet on the floor. You go next, stooping in front of him. You catch each other's gaze for a moment. Then you laugh, suddenly trying to look anywhere but at Steve.

"Right, so I'll just…"

You slide onto Steve's lap, trying to hold some of your weight so you won't crush him. He splays an easy hand over your belly and leans over to pull the van door shut. Your heart thunders in your chest.

"You can sit back, y'know," he says, breath tickling your ear. "’M not made of glass."

"Didn't want your legs to go numb," you joke weakly.

Steve makes an unhappy noise and tugs you back so you're fully seated on him. You angle yourself so you can look at him. Steve looks up at you, lightly tracing a pattern on your hip. Like you do this all the time.

"Hi," you say, too jittery to crack another joke.

Steve smiles gently. "Hey."

His tone is fond. You feel sick.

"Everybody good?" Eddie asks.

He adjusts the rear view mirror and you watch his eyebrows shoot up in the reflection.

"You two look cozy."

"Shut the fuck up, Munson," you mumble. "Just drive, already."

Eddie giggles like a gremlin in reply and turns the ignition.

It’s not bad, at first. Eddie takes it easy driving through Hawkins. Part of it is because he doesn’t want to attract attention. The other part is that Hopper promised Eddie a night in jail if he caught him running the stop signs again.

You personally think it’s a bluff. Robin does not; she’s enthusiastically annoying about road safety, and points out every single sign and red light. This causes Eddie to start slamming the breaks in retaliation.

“Holy fuck!” you yelp when Eddie hits the breaks particularly hard. “Eddie!”

Steve is quick to tug you backwards, considering you’re not belted. You scramble to grab his shoulders and twist to look at him.

“Thanks,” you say breathlessly.

He smiles, then leans away, glaring at the front.

“Really, Munson?”

“She started it!” Eddie insists. “Blame your BFF!”

“Can you drive like someone who doesn’t have a death wish?” Robin shoots back.

Steve’s hands are now on the small of your back and on your hip, respectively. Your legs hang over the side of the carseat, butt nestled quite firmly on his thighs.

God, you’re never living this down.

“Y’okay?”

Steve’s breath in your ear makes you squirm. You turn to look at him.

“Fine,” you murmur. “I’m not crushing you, am I?”

“No,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

Eddie breaks again, harder than before. You slip.

Steve reacts instantly, his hand grabbing the meat of your thigh. Your dress rides up, so it’s skin on skin.

The momentum is worse, however, because you jerk back. Right into Steve’s face.

Your nose mashes into his, which isn’t great. But then, your lips smush against his cheek. When you pull back, there’s a smeared lipstick print.

Maybe you’re the one with a death wish.

Robin is screeching incoherently but you can't focus on anything but the smudge of pink on Steve's cheek. Your chest feels tight.

He looks like he's yours.

"Yeah, we're fine, " Steve says, voice close enough to startle you back into the conversation.

He looks up at you. Your hand lands on the lipstick, like if you cover it, it'll go away. Steve tilts his head, mouth open in a question.

"Sorry," you rush out before he can speak. "I got some of my, uh, lipstick on you."

He relaxes.

"Oh. Thought I was bleeding or something," he says with a slight laugh. "'S okay, I can wipe it off when we get there."

"Uh-huh."

You drop your hand. You can't stop staring. Stop staring.

The print isn't exactly in the shape of your lips, but it's close. You can see the divots and where your lips parted. If someone were to see you two, they'd assume a lot of things you're not.

Steve's collar is wrinkled from the van ride from Hell. His neck is flushed. You wonder how your lipstick would look there.

Eddie presses the brake, softer this time. Steve's fingers dig into the meat of your thigh anyway. More marks.

"Alright, relax, gang," Eddie says. "We're almost there."

You touch Steve's cheek again and hope he'll forget to wash you off of his face.

iv. the secret

It's raining. You're in Steve's bed.

Thunder shakes the sky. You curl further into your—Steve’s—pillow. It smells like his soap and detergent.

You used to like the rain. Not so much these days. Rain makes you think of blood on asphalt and being alone at twenty-four. Rain silences you.

"Do you think he'll come back?"

You've never dared to ask anyone. Not even Joyce. She'd know. She wouldn't tell you the truth, though.

Nancy Wheeler probably could. She'd face you with that steel brow of hers and give it to you straight.

Yes. The monster's back. You're not getting married.

You slip your hand into Steve’s. He squeezes your fingers. Outside, the rain roars.

"I don't know," Steve says into the darkness.

You can't see him like this. It makes you mildly claustrophobic. Maybe you should turn on the hall light.

"Hopper said he was dead. So did that other guy—uh, Murray. And like, Eddie's okay. And Max. El would tell us if she sensed something. It's not like he could come back without making a sound. I mean, from what she told me, she basically, like, unraveled him from the inside out. Which is pretty gross, but also a good way to keep someone dead."

He's rambling. He's rambling to distract you.

God, what the fuck are you going to do when you're twenty-four and unmarried and Steve's forgotten all about you?

"I don't want anyone to die," you whisper.

Steve squeezes your hand harder.

"No one's gonna die."

You shift closer. You can barely make out Steve's silhouette. The ends of his hair tickle your knuckles.

"Hey," he says, and you try to find his eyes, but you can't. "Nothing's gonna happen, okay?"

"Yeah," you say, even though something did happen, something that almost took him away from you, and you don't know if you can handle that again.

"You can stay here as long as you want," he says.

"I can go back to my room."

Steve threads his fingers with yours. You can't see his eyes but it's okay.

"Don't," he says.

"Okay."

You scoot forward, closing another few inches between you two. Now, you feel Steve's breath on your face. He smells like minty toothpaste. He is alive.

The rain batters against the windows. You could kiss him. You could kiss him right now, and no one would know except for you and him.

His breath has begun to even out. You lean in blindly. Your lips land on his hair.

It's hardly a kiss. It’ll be your secret anyway.

+ and, finally, the first.

"Dustin wanted chocolate milk," you say, not looking up from the tub of yogurt you're searching the date for.

"Yeah," Steve says, parking the cart to the side. "Kid's addicted."

He opens the giant fridge door and a burst of cold air nips at your arm. You shy away.

"Six dollars? Jesus, does it come from gold cows?"

You snort, finally putting the yogurt in the cart. You stay at Steve’s house more often than not these days, so there’s no point in getting a separate cart.

"What?" Steve asks, looking at you.

"You're funny, that's what."

"I am?"

"You sound like somebody's grandpa."

"I do not!"

"Do too," you say sweetly.

"Do not."

"Do too infinity."

Steve rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm a grandpa 'cause I don't wanna spend a leg and an arm on chocolate milk for the little shit? So be it."

"Steve," you begin, eyebrows drawing together. "It's his birthday. Have a heart, old man."

"Oh, good grief," he mumbles, but he takes the carton and puts it into the cart.

You smile. Steve shakes his head.

"This is why I don't go shopping with you. You're an enabler."

"I am," you say happily, walking alongside him as he pushes the cart.

"And you don't push the cart."

You tut. "Pretty girls don't push shopping carts, Steven."

"Oh, they just find some poor sap to push it for them, huh?"

"I'm so glad you're on board," you say, skipping ahead to the chip aisle.

You look through the shelves and land on two types of Doritos. Cool Ranch and Original. It’s a tough decision.

“Steve, what do you think?” You hold up the bags. “Which do they like better?”

“Ranch. According to Mike, liking the original flavors of snacks is lame.”

You snicker and take three bags of the Cool Ranch. Steve pushes the cart to you.

“I feel like we’re shopping for our kid,” you say. “We’re the awesome house everybody wants to visit because we have the best snacks and the biggest pool.”

You look up when Steve doesn’t reply. He stares at you, expression unreadable. Your smile dims.

“What?” you ask.

Steve shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he says quietly. “It’s nothing.”

“Steve, seriously. What is it?”

He shakes his head again.

“Nothing, really. Just zoned out for a second.”

He continues to push the cart down the aisle. You watch him for a moment, then follow. The two of you quickly check off the remaining items on Steve’s list (yes, his actual, physical grocery list), and then you check out.

The cashier smiles at you both in line. She’s an older woman, with the typical poofy blowout nearly every woman over fifty gets at Brenda’s Salon in downtown Hawkins. You busily put the items on the conveyor belt while Steve takes out his wallet and makes conversation with the cashier. It’s a good routine you two have established.

When the cashier’s done, you squeeze past the cart and grab half of the bags. Steve takes the receipt and the rest of the bags.

“You two are very sweet together,” the cashier says, her round cheeks blush-red like apples. “Have a wonderful day.”

“You too, ma’am,” Steve replies, and heads to the exit.

You’re frozen for a moment, startled until Steve calls your name. You heft the bags in your arms and hurry after him.

Steve stops and takes two of your bags before crossing the parking lot.

“Steve,” you say, and huff. “I can carry them.”

“Pretty girls don’t push carts or carry bags. It’s the rule, remember?”

You watch, unimpressed, as Steve then proceeds to try and get his car keys with an armful of grocery bags. When he almost drops a bag for the third time, you sigh and take pity.

“Which pocket?” you ask, snaking your arm around.

“Back left,” he says, smiling sheepishly.

You roll your eyes, feeling disgustingly fond. You shove your hand down Steve’s back jean pocket. He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Take me out to dinner at least,” he says.

“Pretty boys don’t get taken to dinner until the pretty girl has been asked out properly,” you shoot back.

Steve smiles, but the joke doesn’t land like it usually does. You step away as soon as you get the keys, clearing your throat.

“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson about carrying all the bags, Popeye.”

You open the trunk for him, then go to open the passenger side door.

“If I don’t carry all the bags, how else am I meant to show off to the ladies?”

You pull the handle on the driver’s side for Steve and he gets in, beaming cheekily at you.

“The only person who’s watching you make a fool of yourself is me, big guy,” you say. “So, mission failed.”

You open the glove compartment and start fishing through for gum. You find a Juicy Fruit packet but it’s empty.

“Damn, that’s what we forgot,” you say, defeatedly crumpling the cardboard. “Gum.”

You start to turn to Steve. “Do you think we—”

You’ve wondered, probably more than you should, about how Steve Harrington kisses.

Now you know: tenderly.

He cups both sides of your face, and you have to brace yourself on the center console for balance. Your other hand tangles in his hair. It’s as soft as you imagined, free of product, and you scrunch the baby hairs at the base of his scalp. Steve makes a quiet noise.

You kiss until you need air. Even then, Steve doesn’t let you go far. You part with only an inch or two between you.

“There’s gum in the middle compartment,” is the first thing he says.

“Huh?”

“In here.” He pats the compartment between the seats. “Hubba Bubba. I got it last week.”

You giggle and grab Steve’s face with both hands. His hands slip to your arms and he squeezes, smiling gently.

“What?” he asks.

“Fuck, I’m glad I know you,” you say.

Steve kisses you again. Two. Steve Harrington has officially kissed you two times.

You hope you’ll lose track at some point.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things x you

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simpxxstan · 6 months

Text

double take

pairing: prince!joshua x f.reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut, childhood friends to lovers, arranged marriage au, royalty au

summary: some lovers are star-crossed. some are destined to rise from the ashes. and some lovers are bound together by duty, but lovers nevertheless. joshua hong thinks fate is too cruel, but little does he know, that there are stars moving to keep his destiny alive.

word count: 22.7k

rating: 18+ (mdni please!)

warning: there's a ton of angst. death of wonwoo, who is joshua's brother, in the past (not graphic), smut warnings: mentions of masturbation, vaginal penetration, nipple play. alcohol and heartbreak. wonwoo is gay. reader has some body image issues, some descriptions of a midsize body and insecurities related to that.

a/n: i poured my heart and soul into this. took me over two months to complete. i hope you enjoy this!

p.s. there are lyrics from ten songs in this fic. i hope you can find the songs! else, i can link them later if you can't find out or guess them. i'd recommend listening to them while reading their particular parts, really sets the mood.

알잖아 우리 사이엔 말보다 더 중요한 게 있잖아

“You know, there are more important things between us than words”

As soon as the doors open, everyone gasps in awe, looking at you with adoration, jealousy, and sentiment all at the same time. The numerous cameras flash, there are audible gasps spreading across the room, the Choir instantly starts playing the traditional music played at a wedding. The room is decked up in pink and white roses, your favourite, and there are beautiful lights decorating the entire room. The glistening white sparkles off the floor, the walls, the tiles and the decor. Your parents already have their eyes moist; your friends are smiling widely, as they stand with their bouquets ready as the bridesmaids. The entire room beams with the joy of the wedding of the century.

And yet, he, whose attention you seek, does not even flick an eyelash. His deer eyes remain curved upward in what you know is a fake smile of endearment, his lips pursed in a false look of affection. You know he does for the cameras, he knows you know it too. You feel he doesn’t really want to be here, he knows you feel it too. You hadn’t expected him to really want this, and yet your heart had hoped against hope. But he had not proved you wrong.

Prince Joshua wants to be anywhere but here.

Prince Joshua wants to be with anyone but you.

Prince Joshua wants to do anything but this farce.

The Choir starts a new song, indicating that it is time for you to step forward towards the altar, where the priest is waiting for you. Your to-be husband is waiting for you. As your heart aches, you make your way towards him, your eyes avoiding his at all costs, while his remain fixed on you. He’s searching for something. An equal apathy towards this wedding? An equal irritation towards the partner? Any hope that you’d call this event off right now and free him for the torture? Last night you had almost been tempted to do so, thinking that at least now he would not treat you as poorly as he had been treating you for the last five months. But you know too well, you cannot give him that satisfaction.

You’re too in your head through the rituals, hardly paying attention to what vows he makes, barely caring about the reactions of the audience, not even listening to the priest’s statements. You were spiralling, trying to avoid his gaze which was fixated on you.

Oh god, can we get over this fast?

“Do you, Joshua Hong Jisoo, take Kim Y/N as your duly wedded wife?”

Is this even a question? This interviewer in my dream gets dumber and dumber. Obviously, it’s a-

“Yes.”

You’re quickly snapped into focus when the answer makes you realise this is not a dream. The priest now asks you, “And do you, Kim Y/N, take Joshua Hong Jisoo as your duly wedded husband?”

This is the moment. You breathe in, breathe out. It’s a millisecond to disaster.

“Yes, I do.”

Joshua had not foreseen this moment five months ago when he had been called back to his country at midnight, after an emergency call from his mother. Brain dulled with grief, thoughts about you had definitely crossed his mind, but not in this way. He had only thought of how you must be coping up with the news, given that you had been next to Wonwoo when the accident had taken his life. He wondered, if it felt like his heart was being ripped out of his body for him, how much worse was it for you. On returning to the palace, he had seen your lifeless face, staring at the night sky, a look he had never seen on your otherwise bright face.

Living away from his family for the past 7 years meant he was not feeling the grief as actively as his parents and you, who had spent much more time with Wonwoo these few years. He knew he would have to comfort his family, but he had no idea how. How could one comfort a mother of the loss of her youngest son? How could one comfort a father from the death of the apple of his eye? How could one comfort a woman who had just lost her dearest best friend and fiance?

To any other royal offspring, these would seem the most worrisome responsibilities. However, to Joshua, who had willingly given up his throne to his younger brother, who, he was confident, would be able to rule much better, the thought of becoming the Crown Prince was the most daunting. When he had turned sixteen, his father had asked him whether he wanted to become the Crown Prince. Almost immediately he had said no, convincing him to let Wonwoo take the lead. At the age of nineteen, when Wonwoo had come of age to become the Crown Prince, Joshua had left for the States to continue his education. At the age of twenty-two, when he had returned to his homeland for a 6 months break, the longest since leaving for the States, he had realised how good his decision had been to let Wonwoo take over. Wonwoo had both skill and the youthful spirit the people of the kingdom needed. His calmer and smarter personality meant he could shoulder the responsibilities better than Joshua ever felt he could. Plus, Wonwoo was a crowd favourite, being the maknae of the Royal Family, and yet the smartest of the lot, as his parents and elder brother had tagged him affectionately.

The public had, of course, not taken Wonwoo’s death well. They had been incredibly supportive of Wonwoo becoming the Crown Prince over Joshua (their polls on social media had been another reason Joshua had left) but now it was just augmented as the general image for Joshua was that of the Prince who had Fled. Princes had to be strong, mentally and physically. Careful, enigmatic, and visionary, like Wonwoo. Not deer-eyed, delicate, and cowardly, like Joshua.

Why should we trust anyone who ran away from his duties of being the eldest, to rule us well?

Indeed, the modern Royal Family had stepped past the norms of age hierarchy, but the mathyung usually took up the reins of royal duty. Instead, Joshua had effectively fled from his duties, not just stepped down and aside. He had been away from his country for a solid 7 years, how would he ever know what the people needed? They strongly protested against Joshua becoming the Crown Prince now, but there were no other progeny left to take up the responsibility.

Needless to say, the entire country was mourning the loss of Wonwoo desperately, albeit for different reasons.

Joshua had soon realised that he had no time to grieve. As soon as the funeral was over, he had to get to work. But how would he survive in this earthquake shaking up his life?

The first step was getting up-to-date with everything that had happened in the country when he was away. Some of it, he knew. Learning the rest was not a tough task. After dropping out of the PhD program he was pursuing in the USA, he had ample free time in his hand to learn every new fact his advisors fed him.

The second step was understanding how royalty worked. Having stepped down from his duties as a teenager meant he had never received training per se. He had to relearn traditional etiquette he had forgotten, familiarise himself with the advisors and royal support system, and thoroughly practise his new duties.

The third step, of course, was making himself popular and loved among the public. The PR team had come up with a long list of actions he should consider to improve his public image. His parents had rejected many of them as unnecessary, and said, "There's only one thing to be done. Marry Y/N."

Joshua had looked at his own parents incredulously. How could they suggest such a step?

When you all were children, he had considered you nothing more than a playmate. An interesting woman, intelligent, witty and warm, a rare combination, he had realised, as he had made acquaintances with more and more people. Of course, you were always closer to Wonwoo. Joshua had known you would end up marrying each other. Everyone had already planned out your wedding with Wonwoo before you had even turned thirteen. Hence your engagement with the Crown Prince last year, had come as no shock to anyone.

Over the years he had come to consider you as a friend. One he met only during summer breaks, always by the side of his little brother. Lately, he had tried to think of you as a sister-in-law. It was funny that he hadn't thought of you as that sooner. He had anticipated the engagement anyway.

"I'm sorry, that's not a possibility I want to consider."

"Why?" Your father had asked you.

"She's my sister-in-law. My little brother's intended. This would be the worst way to take his place."

"Jisoo-"

"No. If you want me to marry someone, I'll be ready for whoever you choose fit. Just not Y/N."

And yet here he was. Swearing his wedding vows to you. Destiny had really done him dirty.

If you had thought the wedding was a trial, the wedding ball was like the guillotine. Under the attention of at least three million people and a million more cameras, your cheekbones ached from putting up the fake smile. Joshua was nearly always at your side, making small talk with the numerous people who had come to wish you congratulations, ranging from the common people to the elite crowds. His body was inexplicably close to yours, but never touching. You could smell his perfume, but never hear his breathing. You could see his smiles, but never feel the warmth.

You knew why he was marrying you. The country needed a royal leader who knew them and related with them. Joshua was a westernised man, who forgot to bow on most occasions, forgot to speak formally sometimes, forgot even the most difficult letters of the Hangul script sometimes. You were the perfect mix to satisfy that gap- the daughter of the royal counsel, not even the offspring of a royal clan, educated in Hangul history by your own choice, and a close friend of the Princes. You were well aware that your engagement with Wonwoo had been immensely popular- the result being that you had already become the official face and honorary member for many societies and organisations of the kingdom.

And now that Wonwoo was gone, but obviously, you had been requested by the King and the Queen to marry Joshua.

And you had taken it in your stride. It was another responsibility for you to fulfil towards your people, who you had become quite affectionate towards since becoming the Crown Prince's fiance; towards your parents, who had dreamt of you becoming Princess since you had developed a friendship with the young Prince; and towards Wonwoo, who you knew had wanted this match since your first Spring Dance, when both of you had guessed each other's secrets a little too accurately.

You knew Joshua would never love you. And frankly speaking, you hadn’t expected love in this kind of setup. Even when agreeing to marry Wonwoo, you had zero romantic feelings for him, only seeing him as your best friend. And when your best friend asks you to rule the kingdom at his side, to be his companion in the tough times, to be his closest person forever, how could you ever say no?

And so, you had agreed to this arrangement with Joshua. You had imagined that he would be equally practical as you, and see this as a familial duty he had to complete. You had imagined he would at least be courteous, friendly and civil with you.

But you were, oh, so wrong. He had been anything but civil with you these five odd months.

If the wedding had been disappointing, then the dance after the wedding was … just sad. As Joshua stepped closer to you, his aura radiating with the white suit he had donned for this day, he could feel your breath heavy on your face. Free from the burden of conversation (usually, ladies would keep pestering him with questions and sad, unsuccessful, forceful attempts at flirting with him). He remembered hearing from the dressmaker how you had fussed about each detail of the dress, but Joshua had no doubt, every version would’ve looked good on you. And all that fuss had definitely paid off: the sweetheart neckline showed off your collarbones beautifully. Your neck was empty save one diamond pendant (which the royal family had gifted to you on your eighteenth birthday, how sweet of you to wear this memory on this special day). There were tiny flowers in your hair, bright yellows against the dark brown. Then there were your cherry lips-

“Joshua.” He sees those lips mould themselves into his name first, and then hears them (light did travel faster than sound). “Hmm?” He whispers back, his voice gravelly from the fake laughs he had to laugh through the day. “I think I just… sprained my ankle.”

It doesn’t register in his mind at first.

A millisecond later, you’re suddenly tripping and wincing, and it hits him. His first instinct is to pick you up in his arms and take you away from the room, afraid that if you have to walk your injury may worsen. His second instinct is to signal to your aide from the corner of the huge hall. His third instinct is to drop the hand from your shoulder and call out loudly for help.

But he follows his first instinct. Picks you up, in the bridal style the audience had been waiting to see all day. There are swoons and gasps all around, but the most surprising reaction is from you. He half expects you to thrash him, or even screech out. But you only gasp and quickly start saying something, in a low tone that he can’t properly catch, so heavy- why’re you doing this- Joshua- put me down- I’m okay- just- ugh!- argh!- Joshua please. He tunes your voice out, breathy and desperate. He tunes out the noises in the hall. He tunes out his assistants and bodyguard stepping closer to you both, trying to understand the emergency. He just focuses on you.

Your mouth spelling out different words, your eyes widening in surprise, your cheeks becoming red with embarrassment. The way you keep protesting and yet your hands clutch his shoulders. The way your dress rides up to reveal the culprit ankle. The way your hair moves when he walks towards the door, and straight up the stairs, time passing painfully fast, and yet slow enough for him to truly feel close to you for the first time, on this day which is meant to be so special to both of you.

But when he reaches your room, he gently brings you down to the floor, your aide already by his side. “What has happened, Your Highness?” “Y/N seems to have sprained her ankle,” Joshua says as he leans you against the sofa, carefully stepping back, allowing your maids to gather around you like fireflies.

“I just… I don’t usually wear such high heels… I’m not used to them. So while I was dancing-” He can see your face flush, your eyes blinking rapidly, gulping after every word, and avoiding his eye. He almost smiles endearingly, at your little movements. But he dares not, lest you think he’s mocking you.

“You don’t have to explain Y/N. It’s natural. Jiyoung, please do not let the Royal Princess wear high heels again,” he addresses your aide.

“Can you speak to the guests? I’ll be down as soon as possible, Joshua.”

“Y/N, can you not fret? Come down when you can. And I’d honestly feel better if you didn’t come down, and instead took rest. It’s anyway been a long day for you.”

And he leaves the room, his long suit flowing behind him, as he puts on his best smile for the worried guests waiting downstairs, ignoring the immense urge to go back to your room, remove those bloody heels and take your delicate foot in his hands, to see exactly what was paining you.

To say that you were surprised would be an understatement. Uneasy. Skittish. Shocked. Your heart pounding in your chest. The absence of the warmth of his touch. The ghost of concern in his eyes when he had carried you through the hall.

Oh, how shameful.

As a woman of public presence, you had never cared about your image, nor your appearance. You knew the rumours about your weight, how your broad shoulders were just like Wonwoo, just like any man, how your hips looked like you’d given birth three times over, how you were utterly unfitting for the beauty standards of the kingdom. But you could care less about these statements- you simply had no time for beauty, and no value for looks.

And yet when Joshua had picked you up, quite effortlessly, if you may add, your heart had skipped a beat, your brain a neuron, and all you could think of was how embarrassing it was. How he must be regretting this grand gesture as soon as he realised just how heavy you were, how he was doing this all under public scrutiny just to keep the audience happy, how he must be feeling burdened with the thoughts of handling the party alone. Your guilt had just driven your embarrassment to greater heights, until you were speechless and unable to do anything. You had searched for any sign of discomfort, irritation, or regret on his face, but they had completely disappeared- in fact, those had been all the emotions you had seen in the last few months, but at that moment, Joshua seemed like a different man. Could it be… no. You wouldn’t let your foolish heart take flight again, like the thirteen year old you would have.

Sadly, Joshua was right. Your ankle felt better after the medic had checked it and given you a painkiller, but there was no escaping the dull lull of sleep clenching on to your eyes as soon as those awful shoes were off and the tight gown had been relaxed on your body to make you comfortable. It had truly been a long day, and your brain was on overdrive with all the overwhelming events of the day. Too many thoughts confusing you.

Will he be disappointed in me? I can’t consummate the marriage. Does he think I balked on him today? For all he knows, I might as well have feigned the injury to cling on to him like a desperate woman, or worse, run off from the party organised in our honour. Did he think I was pretty today? What will the public think about me now that I’ve run away from my own wedding party? Wedding… you’re married to Joshua Hong now… for good. But would he ever consider you his wife?

To avoid the thoughts from spiraling into worse demons, you let yourself fall into the easy trap of sleep.

ii.

당신이 그리워하는 것은 그대일까? (그대일까?)

아니면 미화된 기억 저편의 그때일까? (그대일까?)

“Is it you that you miss? (Is it you?)

Or is it that time on the other side of the glorified memory? (Is it you?)”

That night, Joshua Hong could think of no one but you. Tired, and yet, sleep eluded him. You had sent no word of feeling better, obviously annoyed that he had encroached upon your private space like that by picking you up- oh god, what had he been thinking- and he had felt too shy to visit you to take news about your well being. But oh, when he paced about in his room, all he could think of was how beautiful you had looked today. Although your eyes were sad, with the burden of the wedding, and your body weak, with the worry and tires of royal life, and your heart aching, with your best friend, and quite probably your lover, gone and replaced way too soon by an unwanted man… you were still just as beautiful as the first time he had met you.

That was what he dreamt of that night.

You were wearing a yellow skirt, which had twirled in the wind like a sunflower standing tall in a windy field. The day had been gloomy, but your presence had lit it up. He was all but fourteen years old, and you were just eleven. But just your smile had been enough to teach him what infatuation was.

And then, what jealousy was. When he saw you spend more time with Wonwoo, being closer in age to him and sharing more interests with him.

And then, what longing was. When all he saw of you were brief glimpses in the corridors as you would play hide and seek with his brother. When all he heard of you were hums of your laughter when you would beat Wonwoo in a video game, teaching him the tricks of winning battleship wars. When all he wanted was to speak to you, address this funny feeling in his chest whenever he saw you, but you never gave him a moment to continue the conversation from greetings. Always too eager to leave, always too shy to make eye contact.

But soon he had gotten over the crush- his puberty had settled in now, he was no longer troubled by rushed infatuations over younger girls. He had decided to focus on studies, having already made up his mind to abdicate the throne. He would meet you from time to time, generally accompanied by Wonwoo, as you were his best friend now, and sometimes by Mingyu, your twin brother and Wonwoo’s classmate.

You were also growing fast- into a more serious lady. Gone were the giggles, they were replaced by crescent-eyed grins and shy, mature smiles. Objectively, he found you very attractive. But your closeness with Wonwoo had made it obvious to him that your heart belonged to his younger brother, and gently he had started seeing you as a friend. It was a status he was happy with for he knew you were the best for Wonwoo. And he had himself moved on. Once he had blossomed into adolescence, there was no end of women and men waiting for him to give them some attention. Although he hadn't given up on true love, a couple of one-night adventures would harm none. Especially when he was in the States. No one to stop him, no one to shit-talk about him. A stone gathering no moss, wary of a fire to melt the core.

Until he had returned and seen you.

It was well past midday when you woke up. You felt really refreshed, and were on the verge of breaking into a happy mood, when you realise exactly what day it was.

The morning after your wedding. Your wedding day. Gosh. All the memories of last evening came flooding by, and you put your hands to your face in embarrassment.

“Y/N-ah!” followed by a loud thumping.

You hear your twin brother, Mingyu’s voice from the other side of the doors, probably waiting for you to wake up and respond, or break down the door himself. So you call back, “Yeah, I’m awake!” The door opens swiftly, and your giant brother walks in with the weirdest look on his face. It’s a mix of worry, happiness, pride, and teasing. You can read him like a book, ugh.

“About time, my loveliest sister. Everyone’s looking for you. Quite the drama you can stir up huh? Who knew you had it in you?” He sits by you, and smiles fondly, knowing very well how his words are burning you. “I know, I’m sorry for the mess.” He reaches out, holding your arm as you sit up in bed. “Hey, there’s no need to be sorry. How are you feeling?”

“Hmm, better I think. Let me try and move my leg.” And you gently kick him, taking him by surprise as he falls out of the bed. You laugh even harder at the look on his face. “Yaah! Aren’t you supposed to be injured?!” “It must not be serious, I can actually move it well now. Should I practice once more?” “Yaaah, Kim Y/N! If you’re going to take advantage of being the royal princess by KICKING ME, I’m going to take you to court!” “Now aren’t you taking advantage of being the royal counsel?” And you both are laughing fondly. It’s truly been a moment since you last sat with Mingyu, carefree like this. You only realise now how heavy the burden of the wedding was.

But it’s certainly not the end of the burden. This is going to go on for a long time now. Forever, if you’re fortunate.

A small face peeks at the open door, and you instinctively wrap the blanket around your body to hide yourself. It’s been a shy habit since childhood, avoidance and displeasure in sudden interactions, but when you see the face belongs to your fian- husband, Joshua, you nod at him, asking him to come in. And he looks as immaculate as ever. Hair brushed back, your wedding ring on his finger, his dapper brooch shining against the black suit he’s wearing. Mingyu breaks the ice, “And why are you so dressed up early in the morning, Hyung?” “Simply because he can,” you whisper to him, and you both giggle. Your faces are mirror images of each other, when you realise Joshua couldn’t hear what you had whispered and hence had a puzzled look in his eyes. “I- I’ve a meeting with the council in, like, 15 minutes. And it’s not early in the morning. It’s already noon.” “Noon is a fine time to be in bedclothes, Hyung, in case you didn’t know,” and Mingyu waves a goodbye to you as he leaves you both alone, winking at the other man in the room.

And then there’s a silence.

It’s not even a pause. It’s like a semibreve rest, which is stretched bar onto bar using more tied rests.

And then there’s a disharmonious note clanging through the silence.

“How’s your leg?”

“Hmmm, better. Thank you.”

“Huh? Thanking me for what?”

You chuckle. “For asking, I guess. But I mean, more generally. Thanks for letting me rest yesterday and handle the event.”

“Yeah I couldn’t let your injury worsen, could I? That wouldn’t be very… husband-like of me.” He makes brief eye contact when saying the h-word, but breaks it immediately, frisking about in the room. You bite your lip. It’s exactly like you thought. He had done it for the cameras.

“Is there anything else…”

“Oh yeah. Just - no rush, obviously,” he explains in the warmest tone ever, his eyes wide, “But the council is asking me about coronation dates.”

“Coronation?”

“Yeah, as the Royal Prince and the Princess.”

“Oh.”

“I understand it’s too soon since Wonwoo-”

“No it’s okay. We should get it over with. Whenever the council suggests, I’m cool with it.”

“Okay then.”

“Umm, also Joshua?”

“Yeah, Y/N?”

Can you give me a peck on my forehead?

“Can there be a way to make up to you for the hassle you bore for me last evening? I’m really embarrassed and ashamed.”

He smiles, so smug and aware of how nervous you are. “No, Y/N. I didn’t do a favour on you. It was what my- my brain asked me to do.”

And he leaves, almost immediately, without giving you a chance to breathe out his scent that lingers so longingly in the room.

iii.

“You're my paradise, my own paradise

Everytime I look into those angel eyes”

You clearly remembered your first day of middle school. You had joined a new school, an elite school by all means. Your classmates were all nobility and you felt out of place among such crowds, considering how your mother had only recently been promoted to the position of the assistant to the royal counsel. But a stroke of luck ensured that your first day in the new school went off better than you could have ever dreamt of. Because you had met Jeon Wonwoo, the maknae prince, and he was the boy assigned to sit on the bench alongside yours. And although you were too shy to speak to him, he had extended the hand of friendship by lending you a pencil in the second class of the day.

And then sharing your lunch with you. You two were the only ones sitting alone in the canteen, while the rest had all begun mingling in groups. You had asked if he was unwell. He had said that this wasn’t uncommon, he preferred to eat alone. You had joked about the girls who were sending him looks from the other table and were giggling endlessly. He had smirked, saying he knew it already. You were scandalised, how could he ignore them and let them suffer in this illusion? He smiled, saying he enjoyed the attention. You had asked why he didn’t initiate any conversation with them or even friendzone them. He had simply said, they’re too silly for my time. I can’t talk about nails and hair and dresses. I don’t even know the difference between light purple and dark purple, for god’s sake. And you had laughed out loud, finding your first common dislike for pick-me teenage girls whose conversations centered about appearances and crushes.

That was the first of your many common dislikes, to be honest. And that was how you had become the best of friends, since then.

Wonwoo had been by your side throughout, as had you been for him. And although everyone thought your relationship was more than friendship, you both knew very well that you were the best of friends and nothing more, without any regrets or disappointments. For Wonwoo had been, surprisingly, madly, crazily in love with your twin brother, Mingyu.

You knew Mingyu was oblivious as hell. You also knew that Wonwoo preferred it to remain that way, finding security in secrecy. Even you had found out by accident, but of course how did he think he could ever hide it from you.

You had gotten drunk for the first time at the age of sixteen, the night when his father had informed him that he had to start training for becoming the Crown Prince. “Y/N, I’m already tired of this.” “Hmm, I guess I do understand why your brother stepped out.” “I know right! The responsibility far outweighs any privileges that I can get!”

You had laughed at his indignant words, “Yaah, what else do you want?” “Y/N-ah, are material pleasures the only thing one can desire?” “It's what most people desire, Wonwoo. There are very few other things that can make a human happy.” “Such as?” “Love. Family. Friendship,” and you had squeezed his warm hand, showing that you were there for him. “I already have most of that.” “And you’ll find love as well.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“I have. For a long time now.”

You thought you’d become sober with the kind of shock this information sent to your brain. You jumped up in excitement, and squealed, “Who?!” He had smiled widely at your excitement, pushing up his glasses.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Ayy. Don’t be shy now.” “Nope. You cannot-” “Wonwoo!!!!! Don’t be such a spoilsport! I’ll kick your ass if you don’t tell me. We had sworn, no secrets!” He smirked, “Yes of course! The day I discovered your diary entries about hyung-” “Shh! Enough of me!” “Why are you embarrassed now?” “Because that was so long in the past. But your love- it’s in the present. We have to cultivate it.” “Jeez, Y/N. It’s not a crop.” “It is, you dimwit. Now tell me,” you shook his shoulders, borderline violent with curiosity.

But then there was a change in mood. Wonwoo began biting his lower lip, a telltale sign of embarrassment. “You don’t have to worry, hey. I’m your best friend. I’m never going to tell a soul. Not even my brother!”

He had stared at you as if you had said something wrong.

“How do you know?”

“Huh?”

It took three seconds for you to join the dots. But of course! How could you be so blind!

“You like Mingyu?”

Wonwoo’s face swelled up in bright red, he turned his entire body away from you. Finding his reaction endearing, you hugged him from the back. “Hey. It’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed.”

He still didn’t turn back. “I- I like a boy.”

“Wonwoo! That’s hardly something to be embarrassed about.”

“I can never tell my parents. Hell, I can’t even tell Mingyu. He’s straight as fuck.” You could hear his breath getting labored in his agitation. He swiftly turned around and clasped your hands. “Y/N. Promise me you’ll never tell him. Please.”

And you had promised him. With complete sincerity.

You have seen Mingyu cry plenty of times. When a dog had scratched his knee (he had only tried to play with it). When he had lost his passport (but found it again three minutes later). When you had slapped him for breaking your guitar (you had torn the love letters he had received on Valentine’s Day for he was acting too smug about them).

But today, there are no tears in his eyes, when he prays for Wonwoo at his funeral. Just a blank face and lifeless eyes, which you know to be hiding so much. Wonwoo’s death had affected Mingyu a lot, albeit not as much as you, but Wonwoo had still been the closest he had to a friend of his own age, when he had been introduced into the world of nobility just like you. Since then, you had seen Mingyu become distracted, drinking alone in the house after midnight, avoiding any gatherings, and delved deep into his work. And today, even when the world perceives him as unaffected and heartless, you know just how broken he feels, by the paleness in his eyes and the weak shaking of his fingers.

On your other side is Joshua. He, like Mingyu, is also stoic, but you can hear his muffled sniffles. He’s softer than both Mingyu and Wonwoo, and you’re surprised he can hold back his grief. But you guess he has to, considering his completely broken down parents standing in front of him. They seem to lose all control over their feelings as they cry and pray for their son’s peaceful afterlife.

You’re also crying. Joshua knows you are, and he’s looking at you more than once in a minute. One time, you look back at him, and he immediately puts his hand in yours. You don’t question the sudden gesture of affection, you don’t care enough about it. All you care about is the illusion your heart keeps feeding your brain that you’re not alone even if Wonwoo’s gone. You hold on Joshua’s pinky finger for dear life, and let the tears roll down your cheeks, whispering mumbled prayers as the priests keep on talking.

“It’s so nice to see you after years.” Joshua smiles at your words, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he drinks in the warmth of your presence. It feels so good to be around familiar people in this now unfamiliar world, where everyone seemed to be accusing him for something or the other.

“Likewise, Y/N. How are you holding up?” He is indicating to your life after Wonwoo’s passing away. “Just about. Your parents want me to go to therapy,” you chuckle, but he thinks his parents aren’t saying the wrong thing. “You should, though. You were his literal best friend and fiance. If anyone needs support, it's you.” “It’s okay. If I really felt that weak, I would’ve taken the support, trust me. But I don’t. I don’t know… maybe because it’s Wonwoo? I feel like… even if he’s not with me, he’ll always be with me.” “Yeah, he does have that, doesn’t he? The little hand on your back all the time. It feels like that to me too.” “Then you understand.”

And there had been silence. Until you had addressed the elephant in the room.

“I’ve accepted the King’s proposal. I think it’s only fair for him to request me to marry you.”

He stumbles, trips and almost falls. Then he pauses on the walk, and looks at you. “Y/N. I think he’s being cruel, and you can honestly tell me if you feel so too. You don’t have to worry about your brother’s position-”

“Oh no!” You smile, a weak smile that doesn’t reach your cheekbones. “I don’t worry about Mingyu. I know he’ll survive in the system even if I’m kicked out. I was anyway thinking it’s high time I got kicked out, though. I have no use here anyway. I guess being your wife can be the only reason I stay in.”

You say the words so casually, his fingers burn with electricity. He can’t fathom why you’re so relaxed about it. But you read his mind, “Joshua. I’ve never really… looked for love. So it’s okay if this marriage is loveless. But I do care about Wonwoo. Sorry… did care about Wonwoo. And I think he would want me to support you in any way I can to help you settle down in this new responsibility that’s been dumped on you.”

“Y/N. Please, you don’t have to be so understanding.”

“Joshua, all I’m saying is that I’m okay with whatever arrangement this becomes. If you have qualms, I totally get that. You may not be ready for marriage- or,” he notices the slight change in pitch, “you may like someone else. If that is the case, you can tell me honestly and I’ll step back. I’m not a golddigger,” you laugh, quite sarcastic and bitter though.

“Y/N, are you sure about this?”

“I am.”

“I’m not, but I’m willing to do it.”

And then you extend your hand to him, and he doesn’t know what to do. Are you asking him to hold your pretty fingers? Or admire the gold bracelet adorning your lithe wrist? Or-

“God, Joshua. You won’t even shake hands with me?”

He doesn’t know why his heart falls. He shakes hands with you, and laughs about his error, before you divert the topic into other matters. He’s so unfocused, mind going back to how soft your hand had felt in yours.

Your hand feels rougher. Almost as if it’s been burnt at the edges. You have been burnt, though, Joshua thinks, as he looks at your eyes, glimmering with tears shed and unshed, your parted lips, bursting with words said and unsaid, and your face pale with sadness.

To keep himself distracted, he thinks about why your hand feels more rough. Hurt by the worries of the royal family you’ve been forced in? Uncared for in this palace which is not your home? Calloused with the scars of this burdensome relationship? He doesn’t know why there’s an increasing urge in his heart to try and change all of that, all to see you smile widely again. But it’s too daunting of a task, and Joshua is a coward.

Days pass by quickly. Before you realise, you’ve been married for a month and you’re making your first public presence since that disastrous evening of your wedding. Public presence as a couple. It’s at a conference with leaders of neighbouring countries, where Joshua is expected to speak politics and economics and you’re expected to socialise with the women. But that’s hardly what happens.

In preparation for this event, you two had met a couple of times in the last week. Your schedules never clashed, so you hardly met each other, but this time, you had made time to meet him.

“Joshua, I’m not going to that conference to be a flower vase decorating you.”

He had been in the middle of a serious conversation with his secretary, but he signalled everyone out of the room as soon as he realised your mood was off after receiving the invitation to the conference. “No, you’re the Princess. You’re not going to be decorating me.” “I hope so. Joshua, I don’t mingle in your public affairs much, and I stick to the duties I’ve taken up, but I don’t want to be a trophy you carry around. I’m not fit for a trophy anyway-” he coughs, but you continue, “but most importantly, I’m a human with a brain. I need to be able to speak if I feel I want to speak.”

“And you shall. What’s gotten you so worked up?”

You falter for a second, not expecting him to yield so easily. You had expected him to put up a bit of a tantrum, exercising his authority as a Prince, but he seemed genuinely confused with your outburst.

“I don’t know… nothing, I guess. It’s just that. Historically, our royal ladies haven’t spoken at public forums too much. I don’t want to be like that.”

“I don’t think you could ever be like that, Y/N. Even if God had pledged you to be so. You’re too intelligent to stay shut.”

He leans on his desk, and you take in a breath to see him. He’s looking marvellous. Although it’s late at night and you’re already exhausted and in your pyjamas, he seems to be still working, wearing semi-formal slacks and a shirt. Your breath hitches at the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, but he interrupts your thoughts.

“I’ve actually been meaning to speak to you for a while.”

“About?”

“About… this. Like…” you can sense his hesitation, and you drop the arms you had folded to make him feel more relaxed.

“The PR team is asking me to hold your hand… or things like that when we’re in public. To show we’re a newly wedded couple in love.”

“I’m sure the entire world knows that we’re not in love. I’m not some despo who’s in love with Wonwoo one day, and the next day, in love with you.” You almost miss the little wince he makes when you complete your sentence. “But if they ask us to be affectionate, I suppose we-”

“No. I don’t think either of us would be comfortable with it.”

“You’re right. I think holding hands would be the maximum we can go to.” Your voice is steeling up, your heart frozen. He nods in agreement. You say, “Goodnight then, Joshua. Sleep early. You look tired, I’ll ask them to get you some tea?”

“Coffee?” he whines, almost making you smile. “No, tea.” And you leave the room without further words.

Joshua can’t, in fact, wait for the day of the conference. He’s been trying to find excuses to meet you, see you, and talk to you, but he can’t bring himself to do it. It’s just like it used to be back then, seeing you in the corridors, sometimes in the gardens, meeting each other only once in a week. It seems nothing like a marriage to him, but it certainly feels more intimate than anything he’s ever done. Any sex he’s had. Any relationship he’s had. Anything. Because his face burns up simply from your presence in his vicinity. His heart pumps when you call out his name. His fingers tremble after any accidental touch between the two of you. It’s foolish, giddy, and distracting. It’s a crush, he thinks. It feels just like he was fourteen, and he would have feverish dreams of playing with your hair, wondering what you smelled like, wishing to hug you and feel your soft curves melt into him. He knows you’re an adult now, and yet the sensations in his heart are so soft and innocent that he’s taken aback himself.

But all of that changes when he sees you in the black dress you’ve donned for the evening, as he comes to your room to ask if you’re ready to leave. You’re wearing pearls, matching the thin pearl necklace he has worn, and your wedding ring shines on your fingers. He wonders how you look just like paradise without any makeup or any fakeness.

Shit. He has to spend the entire evening with you. He’s doomed.

If anyone thinks they’re doomed, it’s you. You think about it when Joshua walks into your chambers wearing a black turtleneck under a charcoal grey suit, and you wonder why you’ve not burnt up in flames yet. His outfit is so contrasting to his smile, which lilts into his beautiful deer eyes that you so loved to dream about as a teen. His bangs are off his forehead, and when he speaks you notice his lips more than what he’s actually saying.

It doesn’t help that you both sit in the backseat, quite close to each other, on the ride to the venue.

It doesn’t help when you hear him rolling out words in English, in the sexiest accent you have ever heard.

It doesn’t help when he walks up on stage as the Guest of Honour to deliver his speech, looking like the man of the moment, and you can’t help the feeling of giddy pride bubbling into you. Maybe it’s the champagne. Maybe it’s you scorning the ladies ogling his beautiful figure on stage (he’s your husband, you think, not theirs). Maybe it’s you simply proud that he’s getting the attention he deserves.

He’s finishing his speech, partly in English, partly in Korean. You can see the media personnel immediately raise their hands for questions. And then you feel your blood boil as each question pours in one-by-one.

“Why does your country still have a monarchy in place? Don’t you think the lack of a democratic system is unfair to your people?”

“What steps are you taking to fill in the gap left behind by your younger brother, especially when you’re unfamiliar with your people now?”

“Do you plan on making Korea the next America? What will you do as the modern leader of the kingdom?”

They’re so intrusive, but Joshua has the sweetest and most patient smile on his face. “I’ll take your questions one by one, thank you.”

“Firstly, I think that there needs to be a clear understanding of what our governance looks like. We’ve held on to traditions and kept the monarchy intact, but what has become quite obvious, honestly, is that our government is not ruled by the king, but by what the people say. That is because all councils are elected into power, all the members of the governing body apart from the royal family are representatives of the people.”

Someone has the audacity to interrupt him, “But your country has the highest proportion of rich nobility controlling so many resources-”

“Please do not break me off mid-sentence. I’ll be patient and hear what you all have to say. That’s why I’m here, ain’t I?” That earns a soft laugh from the audience and shuts up the reporter.

“I understand your concerns, but the statistics are incorrect. Every economy, every nation has a few members of the society who are powerful and have control over resources. It’s quite an open secret. Due to our transparency you know who they are in our country. In other countries, it’s quite often disguised in the form of benevolent capitalists and social change mongering politicians.” Another laugh from the audience. His sarcasm doesn’t go unappreciated.

“But yes, it’s necessary to modernise Korea. I’ll simply be following in the footsteps of my younger brother, who understood the country so well. Apart from his contributions, I have so many programs lined up too. You’ll see them unfurling soon, I request you to be patient enough and allow me to find my footing. Anyway, I have my elected representatives and council members to help me in every step, and my wife’s opinions to guide my thoughts.” He pauses, and suddenly, you feel a blush rising up your cheeks as you feel the spotlight has shifted towards you. But your eyes are still on him, as he smiles the most dazzling smile, and you’re blinded.

With the smile of course, not by the sudden adoration you feel surging in your heart.

His wife. It’s not real, your brain overrides any silly loops of emotions your heart is riding in. It’s all for the show. Oh, but it feels so real. It feels so good. It’s all for the cameras.

And then there is applause and the spotlights are out, and you’re back to reality. You bite your lip to hold back the tears.

iv.

한편의 명작, 하나의 실루엣

우리의 그림은 익어가 빨갛게

“One masterpiece, one silhouette

Our paintings are ripe and red”

Joshua Hong feels dirty and disgusted. He has been nothing but a pervert this past week, and he has no one except himself to blame for it. He wants to flip over and die and repeat that for a million times, but nothing can stop the thoughts that wander into his brain every night, after he finally finishes work. Thoughts in the shower. Thoughts while walking in the gardens. Thoughts while eating ice cream as a late night snack. Thoughts while lying down in his bed.

Thoughts about you.

He wanted to avoid them, he really did. He knew you didn’t want him. Not in that way, certainly. You had made that clear to him, ample number of times. And yet, he found himself wanting you. Was it the lack of sex and increased stress these last six months? Or was it that night in the conference that had triggered it all off?

That night, when he said it aloud for the first time you were his wife. He felt so proud, looking at you from the stage, as you sat so elegantly, so much more beautiful than any other woman in the room, hell, more beautiful than any other woman he had met. That night, something had changed, he felt, or maybe it was a figment of his imagination. He had felt you grazing his arms with your fingers more often, on the excuse of calling his attention. He had felt you staring at him for seconds longer than usual. He had felt you speaking to him more comfortably all evening. And he had felt like a teenage boy, almost like taking out his crush to his first prom. He had been so excited to fill up your plate with food during dinner, and had loved it when you had conversed with all the dignitaries at the conference, using the smartest and most technical terms ever. He could’ve honestly, orgasmed right there.

And that had really triggered something off in him. That night, he had put his hands between his legs for the first time in months, and jerked himself off in his shower, thinking of your voice, your little movements and your incredible smartness. It wasn’t even physical, it was metaphysical, as he explained to himself the next morning, when the guilt hit him hard. It was a one-time thing, it won’t happen again, he had reasoned.

But god, even the heavens didn’t want him to keep his promise.

The next morning, he was called to your room on an ‘emergency’. Turned out, it was a new plan for the dams that you had thought up that night. And you had opted to explain that technology to him wearing a night suit that left nothing to his imagination. Just one thin strap had to slip off and his dirty curiosity would be satisfied forever. Jeez, Joshua Hong. Get a grip on yourself. This is your brother’s lover, she doesn’t even like you back.

But could any rational thought help him when all he could do was stare at your smooth arms and neck, revealed perfectly by the spaghetti tank top, and your thighs which were so beautiful he could-

“Joshua. Are you awake enough to even listen to me?”

God, what was that tone? Were you scolding him? For thinking illegal things about you? Yeah, you should, he thought with a swipe of his tongue over his parched lips, as he stared into your eyes, hidden behind a pair of steel-rimmed glasses. God, you were so beautiful, he was a mess.

“Yeah, I am listening. You can just give me the plans alternatively, and at the next council meeting, I’ll let you know and you can come over and discuss it with everyone.”

Your chest heaved, out of breath with all the explanation you had dished out, and it was a sight for Joshua’s sore eyes.

“Okay,” you mumbled, continuing about how you were sceptical about the idea but-

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

And he had rushed out of the room before you spotted the revival of his morning wood straining through his cotton pants.

You’re determined to make yourself more involved in the governance work, and this means spending more time in close quarters with Joshua. And even though you’re trying your best (you really are), sometimes you can’t help but steal a glance at his chiselled jawline, gaze too long at his beautiful eyes, and wish that his fingers were wrapped around your neck- shit, that was too much. But it’s been over a year that you’ve received any kind of sexual attention (the last being from a friend of Mingyu’s at his birthday party, before your engagement with Wonwoo had been made public), and let’s be fair, it’s really hard to dodge the bullets Joshua Hong, unknowingly, keeps aiming at you. Because, fuck, your brain had been all messed up and you had begun stammering when he had met you during your long late night walk in the orchid garden.

“Fancy seeing you here.” That was the first sentence he had said to you that week, and you weren’t in a mood to speak to him, to be honest. Your period was due soon, and you had hoped the fresh air would cure the cramps.

“My room was too stuffy.”

“Do you want me to shift your room-”

“No! There’s no need for that.”

“I mean, you could always come and stay with me. I’ll arrange for the bedroom adjacent to mine being opened and connected with mine. At least that’ll stop the tattletales in the kitchen about us sleeping apart even though the King and Queen still sleep together.”

He was right. The gossip was getting on your nerves now. It must be because she’s so darn gross and ugly, they said. It must be because Prince Joshua has met sexier women when he was abroad. It must be because she’s a brat and runs her mouth too much. It must be because she had jumped on Joshua once the other Prince had died, but Joshua can’t take her weight, haha.

And you had tried, you really had. Gone on a diet, lost three kilograms, and focused more on the remnants of teenage acne on your cheeks. You, who had never given a damn about appearances, were now trying to please- who, exactly? The public? The press? Or was it all to get a reaction out of your husband?

One night, you cave into the weakness. You find comfort in your fingers fondling with your nipples, gasps escaping from your lips as you lie in the dark, under your heavy blankets, imagining Joshua’s pillowy lips on your neck. It gives you shivers, and you’re thankful for the warm blanket.

But as soon as the shot of pleasure shoots through your veins, his words that you had overheard come to your mind.

It was the day after your first conversation with him, confirming your willingness to enter the marriage. Joshua was drinking with Mingyu in the house you shared with your brother after the death of your parents. You had no idea you’d find the Prince in your house when you returned from the market, bag full of groceries and skirt dirty from the mud in the roods after the rain.

“Hyung, if you don’t want to marry her, you can just tell your parents.”

“Do you think they’ll listen to me, Mingyu-ah?” he had scoffed.

“They’ve always been pretty liberal. Letting Wonwoo break the hierarchy has probably been the most controversial decisions of all time, but they were strong enough to take the call. I’m sure if you explain that you don’t want to-”

“Mingyu, it’s not about want or not. I cannot marry her. It is beyond my moral capacity. I really… ugh, it’s so twisted.”

“Maybe it’s not. Maybe you’re just thinking like this because you don’t know her well enough.”

“I do. I know her enough to know I cannot get myself into this marriage. It’ll be the worst decision of my life, I know I’m going to regret it.”

And the euphoria of pleasure dies as soon as it had begun, leaving you empty, both emotionally and physically. You thrash yourself for becoming that stupid teenage Y/N again, crying for a man who you would never get. Joshua would never love you, no matter how much you wanted him to. Maybe you just didn’t deserve him.

The next few days were absolute torture for Joshua. He knew exactly how you felt towards him, in fact you reminded him of it every second, and yet he could not keep his eyes off you. His stupid puberty crush had been reawakened, and somehow, he felt like he was younger when he was around you. Maybe because he trusted you to take burdens off his shoulder when you showed up to council meetings and convinced the balding, middle-aged men (who only stared at your legs and sighed at every novel idea you presented) to let you take over projects which you felt passionate about. A new legal bill for safety for women in workplaces. New schemes to reduce the drop-out rate in colleges. Revamping incentives to ensure the needy families do not prioritise employment over education for their children.

And he would bask in your warmth. Sometimes it felt like you were the light at the end of his tunnel- when he would be tired after nights of staying awake, worrying about projects or silly politics, you’d turn up, smelling of lavender, wearing your lace night suits and carrying pots of lemongrass tea with you. You were a dream, a mist in the spring, and he was chasing the happiness he felt in your presence.

Seeing the two of you spend more time together meant his parents were happier than ever and they began inviting you to dinners with them.

“Y/N, you ready?”

You open the door to your bedchamber, simply dressed in a white shirt and blue flared jeans that did nothing to hide your tempting ass that Joshua kept wanting to get his fingers on. “Yeah. Not wearing anything fancy, I don’t need to fool them about my looks at least.”

“Fool them about looks, what are you saying?” He asks you softly as you both make your way through the long winding corridors.

“Oh nothing.” He catches on to your disappointed voice, how you move an inch away from him after this statement.

“Y/N-” “Don’t you read the papers, Joshua? I know you don’t have time for society gossip but I’m sure you know what they’re saying.”

Shit. He really doesn’t know. He stops walking and looks at you dumbfounded.

“What are they saying, Y/N?” Please let it not be what I’m thinking it is.

“Never mind Josh.” Josh? When did you start calling him Josh? Not that he’d ever mind.

“I want to know.” He steps in front of you, blocking your way. He can see your pupils dilate and then relax, your beautiful lips part gently to take in air, all while there are clouds in your face.

“I don’t want to talk about this, Joshua. It’s embarrassing already to know they say all that, it’s even worse to be complaining to you about-”

“You’re not complaining. You’re my wife, you can share your concerns with me.” I want you to share yourself with me, please.

You bite your lower lip, and continue after hesitating, “I don’t know- I know I’m not perfect and I’ve never wanted to look like a celebrity or a model or whatever, and I also know I don’t have the same kind of good looks that Mingyu was blessed with, and I know I’m not size zero and-”

He steps in and kisses you.

And steps back almost immediately.

God knows why he did it, but he doesn’t have time to regret it in spite of the shocked expression on your face. “Y/N. You’re so beautiful. I don’t even have enough words to describe how beautiful you are. And I’m not saying this just for the sake of it. I’ve always thought you’re simply perfect.”

It seems you’re still out of breath from the kiss. He is too, he just wants to appear composed in front of you while breaking down inside from the fear of you not wanting it as much as he did.

“Y/N. I don’t care what the media says. And I know you’re not one to care about that bullshit either. I want you to know that those who matter to you, love you, for just who you are. We wouldn’t change a thing.”

And he steps away and continues walking ahead, at a slower pace. You start walking a few seconds later, and finally his own heartbeat stops pumping in his ear like a ticking time bomb.

You cannot focus on dinner after that. It’s not humanly possible, you think, as you steal gazes at your husband across the table as he laughs with his parents over silly dad jokes he’s been cracking all evening. His mood has relatively improved in the last few weeks, and now you actually enjoy his company a lot. Just like when you were younger and you looked up to him with starry eyes, in awe of how he knew so much more than you in spite of being just three years older.

But you’re dying inside. Your stomach is churning, your skin perspiring and a sheen of sweat on your forehead makes your mother-in-law ask you in concern, “Y/N dear, I’ve never seen you pick at your food like this. Are you not hungry?”

You panic and reply, “Umm, no I’m just on a little diet,” and you cover up with a fake smile, avoiding Joshua’s eyes so that you miss out on the furrowing of his eyebrows at the mention of diet. He asks you, not allowing you to escape, “Why are you on this diet? Are you trying to lose weight?”

“Yes.” It’s true, you have been trying to lose weight. You’ve stopped liking how you look in the many public photographs that get clicked of you nowadays.

“Why?”

And all of a sudden, there’s a palpable tension in the room. The mood is dead serious and you know Joshua is angry.

Why is he fucking angry? Does he not want you to go on a diet? Is this continuing from what he said earlier- oh god, forget about the kiss Y/N!

“I just… I want to become fitter. I’m thinking of restarting swimming. You remember how I used to swim a lot earlier?” you casually ask him, not expecting him to almost choke. “Yeah I do… it’s a good idea. It’ll help you get rid of stress also.”

Your parents-in-law say something in enthusiastic agreement, but all you can focus on is how good Joshua Hong looks with his hair slicked back, his plain green sweater hanging loose on his shoulders, and how he’s looking at you like he wants to kiss you again. Not that he would actually want that, though. More likely, he’s looking at you to erase that memory of the kiss.

The Crown Prince of Korea is seconds away from a heart attack and the reason is his wife. He can’t get the kiss out of his head- he’d be lying to himself if he said that he hasn’t been thinking of this for months now. He realises just how futile his attempts of thinking of you only and only as Wonwoo’s lover and his sister-in-law have been, when he thinks of just how long he’s longed to feel his lips on yours. Months? Hell, it must’ve been years. When his first choice of his plus-one to his first prom night had been you, but then the teacher said he couldn’t invite someone three years younger to him. When you had showed up at his farewell party before he left for the States, your hair much longer then, your eyes even prettier under those nerd glasses. When he had seen your selfies with Wonwoo while he was abroad, and an inch of him had wished he could share his new life with you instead of the girls who flocked around him.

But you’re avoiding eye contact like the plague. And he knows it must have been the foolish step on his end to kiss you. So old, and yet no control on his fucking hormones? And yet, how could he, when you continued to talk utter rubbish about the stupid comments about your looks that had been rioting on social media, but he found you just as perfect as the woman he had always dreamt of?

Josh.

A pet name? He mused, as he chewed the steak slowly, savouring it along his tongue. He had tried to make the night lively, bringing up topics he knew you’d want to talk about, but he had failed. Your mood was perhaps permanently damaged now, in spite of whatever uphill improvements he had made in the last month.

But what was marriage if not a labour of love?

Love? Joshua Hong had once been in love with you, for a short time, but now he was not. He knew he was not because he knew it would be unreciprocated. It would be spat upon and crushed with the heels of your shoes and Joshua Hong was a coward. He would never be brave like Mingyu, who was always too courageous for his good, especially after too many drinks. He would never be as determined as Wonwoo, who would turn everything he touched to gold simply with hard work and focus. He would forever be content in the shadows, watching you from aside, waiting for you to look at him with the same want his heart was burning with.

But how long? The ache in his heart had become a familiar friend over these nights. The wish to walk twenty metres and reach your room in lonely midnight hours, and touch your skin with his lips until it cured his insomnia. The wish to see you smile at him without the burden of royal obligations, with genuine care. The wish to hold your hand when you sat together at council meetings, right next to each other, and yet so far apart. How long could he suppress these wishes?

Oh, but he had to. Otherwise he would make mistakes. More mistakes he couldn’t afford to make, such as the mistake of kissing you tonight. There were more mistakes his fingers itched to make, such as brushing his hand on yours across the table when your hand accidentally grabbed his glass of wine instead of your own, such as touching your feet with his own under the table to show you how much he wanted you, such as claiming an emergency and leaving with you right now to beg of you to love him back and let him be yours.

When your plate is clean, and your wine glass empty and you sit back on your chair, a contented look on your face, he wants to kiss you again because it feels like a date. It makes him want to take you on a date. It makes him want to court you and woo you and win your heart as he had originally planned at the age of fourteen.

But even if he had started early, would he ever be able to win your heart? He was simply not good enough for you. Wonwoo had been your perfect fit- both in wit and in warmth. And Joshua, alas, was not. Would never be.

“I'm looking at you, I can't take my eyes off

I don't know what I feel but it's feeling illegal”

“I know there’ll be a time zone difference, but if I call you late at night please pick up because it’ll be urgent.” Otherwise I won’t call you, you felt that the unsaid was quite well implied. You nod. “You eat and sleep well. Don’t get too stressed,” you mumble out, and wave Joshua goodbye as he walks away from you, a cup of coffee in his right hand and his blazer on his left. There’s some international meeting he has to attend, and although the King and Queen had asked you many times to accompany him, you knew it was best to not impose yourself in unwanted spaces. You had given the excuse of spending a few days with your brother, Mingyu, in your childhood home, as you’d been away for too long and you had started missing him, and your parents-in-law had caved in.

“Bye, Joshua!” you call out over the loud noise of the chopper. He stops at your voice, turns back and looks at you once. You think he’s going to walk towards you, his left foot lifted slightly off the ground, but then the bodyguard standing next to him motions him to move towards the helicopter and he puts his foot back on the ground. He whispers goodbye to you, or maybe you just can’t hear him.

It should feel nice to finally get rid of him, you think, as he walks further away from you, now a speck on the horizon. But your heart feels heavy, the journey back home feels empty, and there’s a voice in your head which makes you regret staying back.

“I forgot to pack my blue suit,” he says over speakerphone. Joshua, the silly man he is, couldn’t wait for even an hour after landing, before calling you. As soon as he had landed in London, his fingers had itched to dial the button and call you up but he had resisted. But when he had started unpacking his luggage, he couldn’t stop himself. It’s a gloomy day, the sky overcast with clouds. His assistant is texting him to come to lunch, but he’s not hungry. He wishes he didn’t have to leave you in Korea.

He can hear your laugh on the other side.

“I know, I realised it when I reached home and saw the suit lying on your bed.” “My bed? You went to my room?” There’s a pause. “Umm, yeah… I was actually wondering which perfume you used. I want to buy the same for Mingyu, for Chuseok.” “Oh. Did you find it?” He wonders what else you found.

“Yeah, I did. How’s your suite?”

“Hmm, big?” You laugh again, slightly less awkward.

“It’s obviously big. Is it, like, very fancy, or is it the modern minimalist type?”

“Quite modern, but also fancy. Like there are all these weird lamps- wait let me show you. Do you have time for a video call?”

“Me?”

“Huh, who else am I talking to?”

“Oh. Yeah I mean. One sec! Don’t turn it on until I say so!”

He waits, his heart pumping so loud he can hear it. Then you finally turn on the video call and he sees your face coming through the black screen, and suddenly it’s not gloomy any more in London.

“Hi there.” You smile widely, your bare skin glowing, and he smiles back, almost on instinct. For a second it’s just like that. Showing you the hotel room is a forgotten task, Joshua’s excuse to see your face has worked.

He notices that you’re sitting in your house, as he identifies the different wallpaper easily. “You’ve gone to your house so fast?”

“Hmm, felt like there was nothing to do at home.”

Home. Were you missing him? Could it be-

“Is Mingyu around?”

“Yeah, but he’s calling someone. Practically shooed me from the room when his phone rang. Might be important-”

“Pfft. Important, my foot. Probably a new person he likes.” You smile at his comment, “Yeah probably. When do you think he’ll want to settle down?”

“When he finds someone like I have?”

The words slip out of his mouth before he can even think twice and the truth of what he said only hits him when he suddenly sees your video crashing. “Hey Y/N?”

“Sorry!” Your face is back in focus, all red and flustered. “I dropped my phone. Umm, Josh, I gotta go, there’s someone at the gate.”

“Hmm, okay. See ya?”

You smile at him and wave him a hurried goodbye.

The phone becomes lifeless again.

Shit, he fucked up. Yet again. What are these uncalled-for things he’s doing? And why can’t he just control himself, for god’s sake? It’s not like he… oh god. He’s really messed up now.

There’s something wrong happening. It feels right, but it’s really wrong. You reckon it started from the kiss. Since then everything is changing, bit by bit.

The night after that, he had asked you if you wanted to watch the new film in the theatres, and you had agreed, since you actually wanted to watch it (and not because you wanted to spend more time with him). He had booked out the night show in an entire hall, and the two of you had spent more time giggling over the poorly-made thriller and gasping at the unbelievable action sequences than watching the movie seriously.

Three days after that, you had asked him if he wanted to come swim with you. He knew you had restarted practice but hadn’t said much about it except ask where you were practising.

“Hmm, sure? I mean, if it doesn’t barge into your routine.”

“Joshua, if it did barge in, I wouldn’t have asked you.” He grins, fixing his collar. “Sorry ma’am. I’m free today, when are you going?” “Today?” You weren’t planning on going today at all. “Yeah…” “Umm, in half an hour?” “Cool. Call me when you’re ready.”

And that’s when you realised it was such a mistake to bring him to the pool. Because you were too distracted by him all the time. For two straight hours, you both raced across the 500 metres pool multiple times in a marathon, but towards the end, it became too much fun as you both skipped track divisions and cheated to make it to the end of the race. He would swiftly snatch your goggles and the chlorine would burn your eyes until you had to hold his hands down and get back the goggles from him, all while whining to make him stop laughing like a clown. Sure, you had provoked it first by kicking your leg out midway to smash him in his chest, leaving him dumbfounded and gaining you a solid ten seconds, but this was too extreme an attack.

But at the end of all attacks, he somehow ended up pinning you to the wall of the pool, both too giddy with adrenaline to notice how you had landed in this position.

Thank god the pool was empty.

But your mind was not. You were now extremely aware of his gaze burning into you, his hair wet from the water and bangs falling on his face, his taut chest muscles golden and ripped, his glowing skin looking even more alive.

“I love water.”

“I know, I remember how you used to always have pool parties for your birthdays in school.”

“Hmm, you do?” You’re sure it’s completely platonic, but when he uses his left hand to keep you locked against the pool and his right hand to swipe back his hair from his forehead, there are butterflies in your stomach and you just know you’re blushing. Not even an inch of skin-to-skin contact, just his hungry eyes and you’re dying inside.

“Joshua, I need air.”

“What?” He asks, as if he doesn’t understand.

“I need to breathe.”

“Huh ... you’re breathing, though?”

You bite your lip, and he smirks. You can’t help but think he’s doing it on purpose, but he gently pushes himself away from you, and you take the chance to take deep breaths and rouse yourself to sit on the edge of the pool. He points at you and smirks even deeper.

“I win!” He laughs, his eyes growing bigger in excitement. You laugh too, realising that the moment you got out of water, he had won. But he had won far before that…

He dunks his hair in the water and splashes water over you as he rises up again. You slowly get off the edge and stand up, fixing your clothes. You swear you can see him check you out once, but it may be a figment of your delusions.

“Y/N. I’m hungry.” “Huh?” Did you hear him right? “Yeah, do you wanna get chicken?” Poof.

It feels just like those teenage summer parties he used to host. Just you, Wonwoo, Mingyu, himself, and a couple of other friends from school. You’re feeling just as hot and bothered as then, and he’s looking just as cool as then.

“Sure, but you’re paying. Winner winner, chicken dinner!” And you’re laughing now, as you walk away to the dressing room to take a shower and get dressed again. You just want to escape before he comes out of the water and his body makes you weak in the knees again.

He’s hard.

Joshua Hong is sitting through the middle of the third conference for the day and he’s shit tired at this point. Which has probably made his body want things he doesn’t have. Specifically, you.

So he tries to hide the boner in his suit pants, and he swears under his breath every second because it’s simply impossible. Especially after that picture Mingyu had sent to him a minute ago. He shouldn’t have opened his phone during the conference, but he was too bored.

KMG-[picture]

KMG-in case you’re missing your wifey haha

HJS-what?

KMG-she sure is. she’s whining like a little puppy.

HJS-what?!

KMG-don’t you get it? she’s drunk bro. it’s so obvious?? did you even open the photo?

HJS-i didn’t, sorry. unlike you, i’m in london and it’s afternoon here so i’m at work.

KMG-work?! pfffft. you’re the prince.

HJS-you’re also drunk, gyu.

KMG-not realllly, but defo under the influence seeing that i’m texting you against my better judgement, which is the slap i’m going to get from my sister as soon as she realises who i’m texting.

HJS-jeez. she hates me that much lol.

KMG-huh??? hate? you dumbass???

HJS-can you not curse me? this conference is tiring enough.

KMG-sorry.

KMG-you d*****s???

HJS-what???

KMG-the only thing she’s talking about after eight months of living the royal life is you. and i wouldn’t say you’re the only interesting thing at the palace

HJS-what are you implying

KMG-your assistant is pretty hot

HJS-what? i choked on my water!

KMG-don’t tell me you haven’t noticed

HJS-no i really haven’t.

KMG-eww. what marriage does to a person 101.

HJS-i wouldn’t have noticed otherwise either

KMG-sure, says joshua hong who’s slept with every girl in his uni in the states

HJS-why hasn’t your sister found out that you’re texting me and given you said slap yet?

KMG-oh so you want her to find out that you’re pining for her love?

KMG-you’re so down bad to get her attention huh

KMG-you just wish it was her texting you rn, and not me

KMG-you traitor

HJS-mingyu stop

KMG-you’re missing her so bad

KMG-and she’s missing you too

KMG-ugly missing

KMG-i can see the sadness in her eyeeees

HJS-i think it’s your soju talking

KMG-pls. i can handle my soju v well.

KMG-but you have to admit you’re missing her.

KMG-if you weren’t you wouldn’t have saved that photograph to your gallery

HJS-i didn’t

KMG-liar

HJS-accuser

KMG-cheater

HJS-dumbass

KMG-WHO’S CURSING NOW

KMG-soory this is yn if gyu was disturing you durig he meeing iapopogize. byew

That was a … chat that didn’t help at all. Now his mind is wandering even farther away from the discussion in the conference.

And the photograph.

You in tank tops would really be the death of him. Your silky flesh escaping through the loose edges of the satin tank, your short hair falling casually across your neck, covering up all the places he wanted to kiss. Your tiny mole below your left clavicle, and the way you were smiling, looking at the soju glass in your hand, eyes creasing and lips maroon.

It makes him think of that evening in the pool when he had almost kissed you again, but only the devil in his head knows how hard he had controlled himself from pushing you against the wall of the pool with his chest, feeling your soft skin again his own, and your lips bright red from biting on them all day (they were chapped as he noticed from up-close). He was taller than you even in the pool, and it made him want to devour you even more. Your swimming suit had left nothing to his imagination, the pervert he was.

He hadn’t planned on taking off his shirt that evening. But when he had started feeling the tingling in his dick after seeing the damp swimsuit clinging to your body, he had decided that two can play this game.

And god, he had enjoyed seeing you flustered. It felt amazing to know his body still had that kind of effect on women, especially you. The last he had seen you check him out was several years ago, and even then, his blood had rushed straight to his dick when he had received your attention, just like now. Thank god you both were under water so his trunks didn’t give it all away.

All the thoughts he had conjured up in his mind that night come floating into his mind now. Your husky voice after swimming laps in the pool. Your hair all damp and swept back from your face. Drops of water falling down your neck-

“Mr. Hong?” The lady next to him whispers, and he realises the entire hall has been staring at him. “Your thoughts on how Korea would like to be involved in the new cross-Pacific connectivity project?”

Fuck. Specifically, fuck you. Yes, thank you.

He has called you three times over the period of two days that he’s been away. Tiny calls, not lasting longer than seven minutes in all, but they still count as calls. He has also texted you a little bit, and sent quite a few photographs- a photograph of the brunch he had which had a lot of baked goods reminding him of you since you love baked treats; a photograph of the London Eye which he saw while travelling; a selfie in front of the Big Ben.

And yet you were missing him. You knew it had to be that, because there was no other emotion to pinpoint at the steely ache you felt in your body, a longing for something, a desire to see someone, in vain.

That had caused your outburst that night, when Mingyu had taken out soju and whisky and decided that it was the night to get drunk for the siblings. You were both emotional drunks, Mingyu slightly more teasing and funny than you, but you had straight up started whining about Joshua. Mingyu had, of course, texted him all about it but you had realised it a minute too late when you saw him shut up and focus on the texts on his phone, grinning smugly. You knew it wasn’t the person he liked, because he was specifically frustrated over how they were a goody-two-shoes, slept before 11 pm, and didn’t even go out with co-workers for dinner and drinks. They were a lawyer he knew through social circles, and although they had been talking for some time now, he had yet to make progress into their bedroom.

“But I don’t mind waiting. Aaah, for them I’ll wait forever.” He had giggled, and you had punched him in the back. “Sure, let’s both see where this goes.” You wondered how long this puppy love would last.

You weren’t talking to Mingyu all day because of what he had done the previous night. Not just spread misinformation about you, but also send a photograph of you. You hadn’t been able to read the chats, he had snatched it away from you as soon as you had begun to read them, but you knew he had written enough to damage you when Joshua would come back.

One more day, and your husband would be back.

What did wives do when they missed their husbands?

Call them for hours at night and sleep with their voice on speakerphone? Impossible, you lived in different time zones now. If you called him at night, it would be his afternoon, and if he called you at night, it would be your early morning and you’d be in no mood to sweet talk.

Text more frequently? Again, not possible. There was only so much you would want to do without any expectation of reciprocation.

Send them gifts? A parcel from Korea to London would definitely take a day, if not more. The surprise would be lost.

Send photographs? He did, but you never sent photos to anyone. Anyone. Not even Wonwoo, you were just too shy to send photos. And anyway, nothing special had happened to be worthy of sending photos.

There was truly nothing to do to solve your crisis, but oh, it felt like despair. Two days turned into three, three into four, until you couldn’t wait to have him in front of your eyes again. On the last day, you knew from the clock that this was probably bedtime for him, and you decided to call him. Because he hadn’t called you the entire day before that, and maybe you wanted to hear his voice?

“Hello?”

“Hmm Y/N.” There it was, a voice sounding like mellow honey in a pancake, warm and sweet. “How was your day, Josh?” “Tiring? I’m getting ready to get into bed right now. Wanna switch on videos?”

“Umm, I’ve actually just woken up so I had bed hair-”

Joshua is sending you a request for video call.

“Does it look like I care?” He grins as soon as you switch on your camera, showing him your frazzled hair. “I do! You see me only once in the entire day, I don’t want to look like a stray dog.” “You do look like a stray dog, but you’re cute.” Maybe it’s the morning laziness which hasn’t got off your brain yet, but you melt into his words. “You’re cute too. Your face is all puffy after a day’s work. Did you cleanse well?” “I did. I’m glowing even with the lights off, am I not?” He smirks, and you can’t say he’s lying. Even with the faint nightlight, you can see his features distinctly. He catches you stare at him for too long, and says, “Miss me much? Mingyu-” Your face scrunches up in irritation. “Ignore Mingyu! Ignore whatever he said that day. It was all misinfo. I swear.” “Aww now there, don’t pout.” You don’t even know you’re pouting, but you blush so hard.

It feels so fucking domestic. The bare minimum, and you’re melting into a puddle. It feels like you’ve come home, finally.

“I’m going to eat kimchi jjigae today. I bought the perfume for Mingyu and he didn’t even like it, so I said I’ll take it back because he doesn’t deserve gifts. Then he started whining, saying that he doesn’t want to smell like you because then I’ll get confused between my brother and my-” you pause. You’ve never really said it out loud.

He smiles, devilish but also kind. “Did he keep it then?” “No. I’ve got it back, you can use it. I’m never gifting him anything for Chuseok again.” “When is Chuseok, anyway?” “Next week. You have an entire schedule planned, don’t you remember?”

And then the screen goes black for a few seconds, and then his face returns.

“Hey, someone called. Sorry.”

“No no. Calling so late?”

“She’s actually a friend from college who saw on my twitter update that I’m here in London and wants to meet up.” You mouth an oh, and then he continues. “I guess she had called if we could go party now… you know, for old time’s sake…” he laughs a bit, and then continues, “But I said I’m too tired now, we can go for brunch tomorrow before I return home to Korea.”

You suddenly feel awkward. Out of place. Reminded that you don’t even know him properly, and you shouldn’t dream of waking up with him in the same bed in matching nightclothes.

“Oh, you could extend your trip a bit though? If you have friends you want to meet.”

“No, I just want to get back home and rest a bit. Next week will be hectic.”

“Hmm.”

Then there’s a pause.

“Alright then, I’ll go to sleep. Goodnight Y/N!” And you’re waving him goodnight as he smiles through the camera, before ending the call.

Reality has hit you, real bad. He was never yours. You’ll never be his.

vi.

“But I could never lie to you

I'm going out my mind for you”

On his flight back home, Joshua misses you immensely. If he was being honest, he wished that you’d wait for him at the airport, so that he could hug you as soon as he lands- satisfying a craving to touch you that had haunted him while he was in London. But he knew it was too extreme an expectation. At max, realistically, he could expect you to greet him when he finally reached home after the fourteen hour flight, with a smile. Over the last few weeks he had felt your warmth grow towards him gradually, and thus, this was definitely a realistic expectation in his eyes.

“Her Highness is at a meeting, she asked me to inform you.”

He was stunned at his secretary’s words. “At a meeting? I thought she was with her brother.”

“She is with the Royal Counsel, Sir. They are at a meeting together.”

“At 9.30 pm?”

“It’s a dinner meeting.”

“Why didn’t I know about this?”

“It was finalized just today morning S-”

“And since when are you her secretary too, Seewon? Or has her brother done something-” He sees Seewon’s eyes grow wide and he realises he has overstepped. But what is this searing feeling in his head?

Frustration? Did he really expect you to be waiting there for him? It was absurd, he sees it now. It was absurd to think you treated him any differently than you did a few months ago.

“I’m sorry. I’m just- too tired.”

“Dinner is ready, Sir.”

“Can you get it to my bedroom? I’ll eat there and directly go to bed. I’m too sleepy.”

“Yes, Sir.” Seewon bows deep, but he is already walking away.

“It is for the best, Mingyu-ah.” You reason with your brother for the n-th time as he tries to convince you, futile efforts truly, to confront Joshua about the future of your relationship. “I know he doesn’t want anything to do with me. What we have now is… a nice companionship. We’ve both resigned to the fate that this is it. There’s nothing new going to happen in our love lives, and we’ve accepted it. As a teenager, we probably expected our love lives to be beautiful and magnanimous like in the movies, but this is reality. And you know I’ve never sought romance.”

“We all know why that is.”

“Huh?”

Mingyu stares at you blankly across the table, his eyelids drooping slightly from being tipsy. His shirt is nearly off, the alcohol heating up his body, and in his longer hair, his face looks eerily like yours. Seeing him like this makes you feel colder, and you hug the cardigan closer to your body.

“Wonwoo and I were together. When we found your diary entries about Joshua.”

You’re speechless. How had Wonwoo emitted this very important detail about the biggest secret of your life?

“Hey, Y/N-ie. I know I’m not as close to you as Wonwoo. He was a better friend to you than I could ever be, although we are of the same age. And I know he’d be able to explain this better-”

“Kim Mingyu.”

Now he’s speechless.

Never in his entire life have you called him by his full name, except when you were really frustated over failing your midterms when he had topped the class or when you had suffered the wrath of your parents when it was actually his fault.

“You knew?”

He gulps.

“How come you never said anything to me? I can’t believe Wonwoo- that fucker- that-”

“Hey!”

“No, you don’t get it! I’ve- I’ve kept so many secrets for him. It was our pact you know- never spill secrets. And never keep secrets from each other. I told him everything and he- Oh my god. What else do you know? How much has he betrayed me?”

“Y/N-ie. He didn’t betray anything. It was purely an accident that I was there in the room when he started reading it out aloud. None of us knew what was coming as we started reading that page. And then he swore me to secrecy, and made me promise never to tell you. Made me swear on my face too, can you imagine?”

But you were not in the mood for jokes. Angry, hot tears started rolling down your cheeks. It was truly an uncalled for meltdown, but the tears seemed to be a long time coming.

“I can’t believe you know it. I’m so pathetic-”

“No, aaaah-” He shuffles closer to you, somehow patting your hair, before you smack it away.

“Don’t touch me, Kim Mingyu.”

“Okay, sorry. But Y/N. I don’t think you should be so mad at Wonwoo. In fact I had totally forgotten about it, until-”

“Until?”

“Until Wonwoo said how he was considering proposing to you, to be his Royal Consort.”

You look up at your brother.

“You know why he had proposed.”

“I do. I just thought… maybe if I were him, and if I knew my best friend was in love with my brother-”

“I am not! In love! With his brother!”

“Y/N-aah.”

“It was a teenage thing! A crush! It happens! Hell, Mingyu, you fall in love every week. You don’t have the right to call me out like this!”

“I’m not. But that’s because- that’s just who I am, you know? I feel butterflies and I go for it. I don’t think about it. But you, you’re different. You think twice, thrice, a hundred times, before even feeling something. For the longest time, I thought you didn’t have a heart, you had two brains.”

You scoff a mirthless laugh. “And yet I’m the one stuck in this ugly marriage. How stupid of me. I’m torturing a whole man to fulfill some broken childhood wish of mine- something I don’t even feel anymore. That’s honestly the most pathetic thing in the world.”

“Hey!” Mingyu really wraps his arm around your shoulder now, and unwantedly, you cave into his touch. His body is warm and it feels safe. You haven’t hugged him in a long time, you realise. Wonwoo had always been your cuddling partner, by your side through long days and nights. Wonwoo had been your best friend and so much more. Perhaps your true soulmate.

Wonwoo.

The thought of him brings fresh tears to your eyes, and you’re shaking violently in Mingyu’s arms.

“Y/N. Can you stop beating yourself up? First of all,” you raise your head to look at him, but he shuts you down, “listen to me for once! First of all,” he starts again, “I think you do like him. Maybe it’s not your childhood crush continuing for so long. But somewhere, you do like him. It’s like- a longing you’ve been craving for so long, and now that the sight ebbs closer to you, you can’t help but walk towards it even more.” You look at him again, tears drying up. When did your silly brother become so poetic?

“Second point is. You really shouldn’t beat yourself up for this. He’s - he’s not getting tortured, that’s for sure. He seems really happy to me, and I can read faces well.”

“No, Kim Mingyu, you’re dumb as fuck-”

“No, that’s just what you think! Because you’re my sister. I’m actually very smart. Just like I never think you’re smart, even if you’re a double masters graduate now.”

You sigh. Maybe this was true.

“Anyway, what I’m saying is. Shua hyung doesn’t seem tortured. He talks to me fondly about you, whenever we talk. Yes, he was initially very hesitant. But you know why he was-”

You’re staring at him hard, waiting for him to continue, but he just gulps. Then his eyes widen, and keep widening. Suddenly, he jumps up, and starts jumping in tiny movements.

“Mingyu, have you finally gone mad?”

“He thinks you’re in love with him!”

“What are you saying?” Your jaw drops. “Mingyu, I think you’re really drunk, you should just-”

“Oh my god. Wonwoo Wonwoo. Aigoo, he thinks too far ahead of this time, don’t you think?”

“What are you saying, bro-”

“Even after his death-”

“Do you mean he forethought his death too?”

“No! I mean, of course not. Just. The way things turned out. He really set you up with fate. A true best friend, aah,” leaving you still confused, Mingyu pours the rest of the soju bottle into his glass and drinks it in one go.

“I’m going to bed. I can’t tolerate your nonsense anymore.”

“Hmm, goodnight. Sleep well, cutie sister.”

You throw him a dirty look, and have half a mind to kick his face, but then you feel too tired and you waddle back to your bedroom.

It’s only the next morning that you see his texts and missed calls and call him back. He’s been waiting for the call for hours now, so he picks it up as soon as it starts ringing.

“Y/N!”

“Oh, good morning!”

Your voice sounds groggy. Were you drinking?

“I was w-worried,” he stutters, “Where were you last night?”

“Oh, last night? With Mingyu.”

“Oh. I thought you’d gone for a meeting?”

“Yeah, after that. It was a good one, I’ll send you my notes later. I’m too hungover right now, sorry. Was there anything you needed from me? Any work stuff?”

Your voice? A hope to see you returned to the palace when he wakes up in the morning?

“Nothing. I was just, like I said, worried.”

“Aaah, you shouldn’t have been. I have bodyguards you know. They left me only after they saw me going home with Mingyu.”

“Hmm.”

There’s a pause. He wonders if he should bring up the question of when you plan on coming back. He wonders if you’ll ask him anything about the flight. He wonders if he can ask you what you and Mingyu have been drinking so much over.

“Please don’t worry on my account. Mingyu and I… had some things to discuss. I’ve cleared up my schedule today. I hope you didn’t need me for anything-”

“No. No. Of course not. Enjoy your day.” Even if I won’t.

“Kim Mingyu? Where are you?” As soon as your call with Joshua ends, the painkillers start their magic, and you remember bits and pieces of your conversation last night with your brother. You walk towards his room, but alas, you find him still sleeping in his bed, naked except his underwear, evidently too hot after getting all drunk.

You slap his back sharply, and he jolts up with a groan.

“Kim Y/N!”

“What nonsense were you saying last night? Tell me now, if you have the guts to tell me when sober.”

“Huh?”

Five seconds.

Ten seconds. You give him a glass of water.

Three minutes. You get him painkillers.

Ten minutes. He brushes his teeth.

Thirty minutes, you’re both awake and sober. And yet, radio silence.

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I don’t remember. What were we talking about last night?”

“Yah! Kim Mingyu! You weren’t that drunk!”

He tilts his head from side to side, putting on a show to recollect, but his face is still blank. You have the urge to slap his head, like one slaps a dysfunctional remote to make it work again. But you fear it’s going to damage his few brain cells forever and irreparably.

“I really don’t remember. I just remember… talking about Wonwoo.”

“Mingyu did you drink after I went to bed?”

“Yes, but that’s-”

“Fuck. No wonder you’re out like a light bulb. Did you finish the entire bottle of whiskey too?”

“Hmm, but-”

“Fuck man! Now I can’t even be sure of my own thoughts.”

“So even you don’t remember! Sucker!”

“No I do! But I was just… wondering if I was delusional or if it was real. Mingyu, try and think hard.”

“Umm, I can’t really think so much so early. And today’s a holiday, for fuck’s sake. Can’t a man relax and wake up on a holiday?”

He huffs and walks out of the room, his hair sticking out weirdly. Oh, your brother. Now you have to verify if the nonsense he spewed last night was indeed true or not. And there is, of course, only one way to do so.

vii.

“Turnin’ me up and back off like this

What do you want? Do you not like it?”

He had to know. Joshua Hong had never felt the pangs of curiosity so wildly as he did now. It was too much to bear. This suspense. These mixed signals from you. This wild fluttering of his heart that he had to forcefully drown out with the rational thoughts from his brain. Not a moment of bliss and yet so much happiness even in this riot.

“Can you make a cute pose for me?”

You stare at him, and then at the camera. “What?” Your reaction makes him smile. “Cute pose!” “Yah! I’m the Princess, not an idol! Why should I make a cute pose!” “Because that’s your vibe! All the media goes wild for your cuteness. That’s why you’re so popular with the young people of our country.”

“I’m popular because of my personality. I’ve raised Mingyu, okay? I know how to deal with kids.”

He’s laughing out loud now, he doesn’t care if his bodyguards are suspicious of the whispered conversation the two of you are sharing.

“But I insist. Cute pose, please?” He winks cutely, his face full of aegyo. He’s always been good at this, the baby face among the brothers. The delicate boyish charm he never lost. The mature, serious look he never gained, unlike Wonwoo.

“Joshua. I’ve never done it,” you whisper back, slightly embarrassed.

“Umm, can you do a V sign for me?”

You do it, and extend your hand ahead of you. “Now bring it up to your eyes.”

You bring the hand to your eyes, and Joshua bends your fingers slightly to make it look cuter. “Cha! Now you’ve got it! Smile!”

He smiles for the selca, and you smile too. But your smile isn’t the real one he’s used to seeing. So he pokes a finger into your cheek, just to get a reaction out of you, and clicks the burst shot at the same time.

He’s right.

You blush, smile and laugh in embarrassed giddiness, all in the series of shots. It’s a small touch, far far shorter than anything he would like to do, insignificant, and mostly friendly. But the effect it has on his heart says otherwise.

At least now he has the shots the PR team asked him to prepare.

“Are you going to send that photo?”

“Of course not if you’re not comfortable!”

“No. That’s… okay. I just think it makes us look too… childish. Not the image the PR team would want to project of us, no?”

“You’re right. I’ll not send it. Sorry, I just wanted to make you comfortable and smile.”

“Pulling my cheek was your idea of making me comfortable?” You gasp, in mock anger.

He leans in, ignoring the way your eyelashes are fluttering from his sudden closeness.

“Did it work or not?”

Your shy smile is the answer he needs to satisfy his curiosity for now.

But the ugly demon never rests, and his mind remains wildly distracted for the rest of the day. Your photoshoot may have been over a long time ago, but he can’t get his mind over the photographs. He’s thankful you let him keep the photograph where his finger touches the soft pulp of your cheeks. It seems like the only thing he can look at right now.

It’s just been six hours since you’re back in the palace for good. Your mind keeps going back to your conversation with Mingyu, but you’re too afraid to approach the issue. You know it’s a hopeless cause, there’s absolutely no way what Mingyu was hinting at was correct. He’s a real dumbass about feeling something, definitely a TJ and not an FP, since he was so shit at perceiving and interpreting feelings. He must have been going off on tangents which weren’t even realistic.

But somewhere within you, the curiosity burned you alive. It was hell, sitting next to Joshua at the council meeting, pretending to listen to industry experts talking scientific lingo which basically amounted to how the new slum restoration and water purification project needed more funding, but you kept thinking of the same loop of thoughts. The fact that he whispered to you little jokes about how boring it all was, his fingers sometimes brushing over the net stocking of your knees when he leaned in to hear you whisper back, drove you absolutely crazy. If his fingers slipped slightly, it would undoubtedly find out how heated your core was.

Joshua and you have schedule after schedule, pending work which had been postponed for the trip, which had to be completed before Chuseok so that the festivities passed smoothly. When the day had started with you two eating breakfast together at a public place (actually a gimmick for media to cover it as a romantic date for the wife who missed her beloved husband) and clicking selfies to be released on his twitter, you had thought that was the end of your togetherness for the day.

But it had seemed to stretch on, when Joshua insisted that you sit with him for all the meetings, to keep him updated on everything he had missed out on, now that you were much more deeply involved in the official world.

“You have a secretary though?” you had chuckled, begging him to take the hint and releasing you from this trap.

“Is it too much to ask for a friend by my side when I face the world?” he had all but pouted, and you had, of course, melted.

It reminded you eerily of what Wonwoo had said when he had proposed you. Brothers did think alike, you think, as you flip the pen over and over waiting for the current presentation on tax revenues to get over. You had already thought of questions in the first few slides, realising some loopholes early on, and now the rest of the presentation is predictable. You are, however, waiting for the presentation to end to pounce with your questions, when your eyes go to what Joshua is scribbling on his notepad.

“Hey, I thought of the same concern,” you whisper, showing your own notes on your tablet.

“Telepathy?” he winks at you, and you smile lightly. “The Prince is too cheerful today. Why all the jokes? Did London steal my serious Joshua?”

He leans in slightly closer, until all you can see is his eyes.

“I missed you. It’s good to be back.”

Then he leans away, and almost on cue, the presenter opens the floor for questions and his secretary prepares the mic for him to speak into it. Your questions are all forgotten, your notes forgotten, so all you can do is stare blankly ahead until your mind registers what he just said.

viii.

싫어 하면, 싫어지면 좋겠어

좋아하는 마음을 멈추고 싶어

“If you hate it, I hope you hate it

I want to stop liking you”

It is two days before Chuseok, but there’s a somewhat half-hearted excitement in the country. It seems like everyone is feeling the same way as you. You’re all reminded of how Wonwoo had suddenly left your side last year, exactly 365 days before this.

Your recent visit to home had actually worsened the incisions your thoughts about Wonwoo made to your heart. It had been fun to curse him for betraying your secret to Mingyu, but deep down, as the date kept approaching, you could not bring yourself to sleep at nights. Every waking moment, you felt the same pain jarring your body as you imagined Wonwoo must have felt in the moment of the car accident.

Mingyu and you had drunk every night for the same reason. When you had come home, you had realised soon he was not quite the happy spirit you knew him to be. And when every conversation of yours led to nostalgic memories of the past, somehow centering around the one friend you both had loved so much, but never really talking about him directly, you realised he was grieving too. He knew how to hide it far better, but you wished he would break the dam for you.

And he did.

All it took was playing the album that Wonwoo had bought for you and Mingyu to celebrate your 18th birthday, the first album all three of you had liked (an utter shock since you had disparate music tastes), and Kim Mingyu was a wailing, blubbering mess. His head on your shoulder as you hugged him, urging him to take it all out, even though snot was all over your sleeve. But it felt relieving to see him free his own heart, for you knew Wonwoo hated it the most when Mingyu tried to hide his feelings and thoughts.

“How do you think he is doing?”

“An angel like him must be doing well, Gyu-ah.”

He had nodded, and you both had silently listened to the album on loop.

It was an album about loss. All the songs definitely hinted at losing a loved one. Some could think of it as a romantic loss, but you and Wonwoo had always thought the singer was speaking of losing anyone close to you- a friend, a family member, any beloved human being, or even a pet. It was so fitting for the moment, and you cried too. Ultimately you both had fallen asleep on the couch, for the first time in forever, the two of you on the same couch, cuddling in a desperate attempt to comfort each other.

Once back in the palace, the familiar comfort of your brother, both basking in the shared shadow of grief, was absent. This was an environment you still hesitated to call home, in spite of spending a huge amount of your life between these walls.

Because there is no longer a spectacled calm sea of love called Wonwoo by your side to tie you in during the high tides of anguish, pain and nervousness. To set you free from the clutches of overthinking and the burdens of your own intelligence. To help you escape from the depths of your mind and heart, and see the world that was beautiful without any dangerous inhibitions.

There is another person sitting next to you now, kneeling before the elaborately framed, smiling photograph of Wonwoo that is before you, surrounded by candles and flowers as the Royal Family pays their respects to the death of their maknae. Not just the King and Queen are shedding tears, the thundering sky too seems to be crying too and drowning away the tears of the world with its louder downpour. You want to be stoic, but the wetness on the rim of your eyes are unavoidable. But there are no tears in Joshua’s eyes. His eyes are dark, full of an emotion you cannot place, and suddenly you feel very distant from him.

It is this feeling, primarily, that sets off the tears in you more wildly. The only person you expect to be on your side now seems to be so far away, and it seems so cruel that you cannot help the sudden tears that escape you now. The distanced coldness in Joshua is gone as soon as he sees you in this state, reaching out to hug you, but you can't control yourself. He pulls you in one corner, thankfully, and pats your back until you’re more yourself.

“How are you holding up like this?”

He has the audacity to shrug and break your heart even more. What cruel curse is this that the person you loved the most has not only left your side, but now there is someone you’re left with, who will never love you?

“I’ve been training myself to harden my heart. I cannot cry before my parents, they need me to be strong.”

“But what about yourself?”

“It doesn’t matter what I feel.”

“It does to me.”

He looks up at you, you’re still cowering next to him, your knees pulled up to your chest as you hope to feel warmer.

“There is something comforting in knowing that I’m not the only one who feels like their heart is being broken to pieces by a hammer.”

He winces, but puts a hand around your own.

“If it means anything, it does feel like that to me too. Probably not as bad as you though.”

“But you’re his brother. You’ve known him for longer than I have.”

“But there is nothing stronger than the loss of a lover. Not even the loss of a family member.”

Then someone calls out for him from the crowds, and you’re left to yourself again, as you try to make sense of what he said.

“This is the album we used to listen to all the time. Wonwoo, Mingyu and I.” You show him a faded album cover, and he reads the title.

“Can I listen to it, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course. I wanted to share it with you. Shared grief, you know?” You chuckle, as Joshua goes up to play the album. The first few songs are not even remotely sad, but he can see a tear rolling down your cheeks already. You jerk away the cup of cinnamon coffee from yourself, to prevent it from becoming salty.

When it finishes playing, Joshua lets out a long sigh he doesn’t even know he’s been holding in. This really confirms it for him. It breaks his heart a little more, although he’s known this for years, probably, but it still hurts.

“It’s a very moving album.”

“Hmm. The lyrics are almost poetry.”

“Yes. The way the singer describes the grief of losing a lover…. No wonder you could feel it so deeply.”

You’re looking at him funnily, and he raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not about losing a lover. I think it’s about losing any person who was close to you… the feeling of missing a beloved is not limited to romantic relationships, you know? Do you not feel the same way? Your calmness scares me.”

“No, I… I don’t know how to feel. It does hurt, a lot. But… somehow, the last year has been very hard for me. It’s changed the way I feel things, I think…”

And then you hug him, your fingers squeezing his shoulder blades. You’re impossibly close to him on the sofa, but he can’t hug you back. Not when you’ve literally shown him the album right now.

Not when he knows it for sure that his love for you will be forever unrequited.

He can speak again only when you shift away from him again, breaking the hug.

“Y/N, I… This was the world I wanted to avoid the most. I wanted to run away from it so bad. I did everything I could in the US to convince myself and my family to let me stay away, to prove that I was better off living away. And I had selfishly, left everything to my little brother, who was suddenly pushed into all this without expecting it. And I feel like a terrible person. I don’t deserve to cry-”

“Hey! Wonwoo never thought like that. He knew your reasons, and he never once complained about them.”

“Did he speak to you about it ever? I just feel like a piece of shit for leaving him in the middle of it all, instead of being the reliable hyung he should have leaned his back on and enjoyed the youthful days of his life. I can’t help but feel-”

And he does what he has tried to avoid all day. He doesn’t know what triggers it- your pats on his arm, the way your eyes are glued to his, or the memories of Wonwoo finally flooding his rationale.

“You’re not responsible for his death, Joshua. You deserve to grieve, but do not beat yourself up. He never complained about anything. If anything, he knew he was a natural at this.”

“But Y/N that’s no consolation! I failed him!” He’s positively bawling now, and you shuffle to take him in an embrace again. He fights it at first, whispering something about snot, but you only chuckle and pull him in closer. There are several moments of silence after this, while he continues to sniffle in the crook of your neck.

“The days after he left, they were hell for me. I would hallucinate, I think. I saw him in my dreams, when I woke up I would call out his name, while eating or doing any work I would talk to myself, addressing myself with his name. Everyone thought I was going to lose my mind, but then… I reeled myself in. My stronger sense of intelligence stopped my emotional senses from losing it all.”

“You’re very strong, Y/N. I don’t know what I would do if I lost my lover.”

There’s another moment of silence. Joshua feels his heart beating fast, but then there is another heartbeat bursting in his ears, and it’s way faster than his.

He realises it is yours.

“Wonwoo and I… were never lovers, Joshua. I don’t know why you keep thinking that?”

Suddenly, his world is spinning. Joshua Hong doesn’t know what to say.

“What?”

He moves his body backward to look at you, to see if you’re fucking with him. It’s a cruel joke-

“Wonwoo and I were never in love. Romantically.”

“But you were engaged?”

He sees you take a deep breath in, and his eyes are bigger than the sun as he waits for you to answer. It’s a do-or-die moment for him. He keeps searching your eyes for any sign of a joke, but you look dead serious.

“That’s because… because Wonwoo was gay. He liked my brother. But he could never come out before the world, he knew he would die by public guillotine if he did that. So he decided to do the next best thing to marrying the love of his life. He decided to marry his best friend. That’s all.”

“Marrying his best friend? Wonwoo gay?”

“Yes,” he’s definitely delusional right now. He’s hearing all sorts of bullshit. This is why he was reigning in the tide. Too many tears and he’s light-headed. Drunk in his own pathetic feelings.

“He asked me about his dilemma, and what he was thinking of doing as a solution. We agreed to it as the best thing. I would support him in this tough journey, he knew that. And I knew that it was better to marry him than spend my life in an arranged marriage because I was not even looking for love-”

“Not looking for love?”

It’s your turn to look like your breath had been knocked out of your lungs, but you quickly recover, when you whisper to him, your voice suddenly far softer.

“Joshua…”

“Why did Wonwoo spoil your chances of finding love? You could have found love, you know?”

“Not when the only man I have ever loved was millions of miles away from me.”

No, he’s delusional for sure. It can’t be- no- never…

He sees you freeze, standing up, and suddenly the room is too cold in spite of it being the middle of September. Your body steps away from him, but he can’t move. Can’t seem to get a word out of his mouth, not a single thought in his mind.

“Oh. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

And then you sprint, shutting the door behind you, and Joshua still can’t move a limb.

ix.

“I love the way that you're designed

Love thе way we intertwine

Still don't need a rеason why

You're beautiful and now you're mine”

It seems like an eternity before you can stop crying. An eternity of unrequited love is burning itself down to atoms in your heart, and your whole body seems to be out of control. It’s been a long day, worn down by the grief of losing your friend, and now the pain of ruining the one friendship you had left.

As a teenager, you had anticipated this moment several times. Especially during the sleepless summer nights, when you would wonder how it would be if you ever confessed to Joshua. You had almost done it too, on so many occasions which kept floating to your brain now. When he had come to see you at your first debate finals in school, and he had hugged you after you had won, and treated you (and Wonwoo and Mingyu, who were your teammates) to bulgogi japchae and fried chicken. When he had patted your hair after you had scored your first goal in football, one of the many games you played with the boys. When he had given you the extra piece of dumpling from his plate because there were no more left and you had just remarked that it was the best dumpling you’d ever eaten.

You are so lost in your own thoughts that you miss the footsteps behind you. A shame truly because Joshua is extremely loud in his running. Anyone in their right minds would be able to hear him from miles away. But not you. Your mind is blocked too much with echoes of your own voice, pathetic as you must have sounded when you had confessed your silly little infatuation.

An infatuation that had lasted the struggles of time.

All the lies you had always said. Not looking for love. Focused on my career right now. Too busy to date. I don’t believe in soulmates and that shit. All excruciatingly stupid excuses to hide the ache your heart made even after years, just at the thought of Joshua Hong. Even when you knew very well he was way out of your league and too far away, physically and emotionally from you, you had chosen him over any other person up your way. That fact in itself was so wretched: you had, like a fool, chosen him over and over, giving up any opportunities to embrace a now that would gratify the innate human need for romance, in hope for an extremely uncertain future. Over Yoon Jeonghan, who had fluttered his pretty lashes and drawled in his cherry sweet voice- but you were insecure that he was way more beautiful than you, and the only reason he was going on dates with you was to boost his ego about his own beauty. Over Xu Minghao, the calm, witty and incredibly romantic boy who matched you in every way possible, almost designed to be your soulmate by your own admission- but even the easily affectionate days you enjoyed with him in your college days had been overshadowed by the flickers of hope that one day, you would make Joshua’s heart race in the same burning, desperate way he still made yours race.

Your body is exhausted from the overdrive.

You’ve cried too much, it’s sucked out all the moisture from your system. You’ve not eaten in hours, and the pain of your heart is overcoming you in whole. So you let sleep take over you, expanding the memories to erase any sense of consciousness you retained for so long in vain.

Sickening how you’re dreaming of him even in your sleep. It’s extremely hazy, but you see his face smiling down at you, the dawn covering his features with shades of pink and orange that make his eyes glitter even more brightly than usual.

He’s an angel, you think.

Except your body is feeling too warm for it to be a dream. His smile seems to grow wider, and you can slowly see more of his face.

Then he bends down to kiss your forehead. Then you’re asleep again.

When you finally wake up, he’s still staring at you. The slow breaths you take and release as you sleep so calmly in his lap, your head ever so lightly shifting from time to time. The edge of the wooden bench pokes his waist, but he would bear anything to see you sleeping in his arms like this. He can scarcely believe it, and he’s afraid that if he moves even a bit, it will disappear, like a myth he had gaslit himself into believing.

So when you finally wake up, he can’t help but smile at you. The smile that’s been stuck on his lips ever since he realised seven hours ago, that you loved him back. That he was not an absolute fool in hoping he could make you his. That he was not the only one whose heart burned with the desire to touch you every time he saw you.

He finally understood your point about shared grief.

As the stars disappeared when the sun rose, he quietly prayed to Wonwoo. It was mean and selfish, to be grateful to him for bringing you to him by giving up his life. But he was able to ignore the demons in his head by thinking that the kind soul Wonwoo was, he had always brought you to him, he was the only one who had pushed you away in spite of his unending efforts.

Hyung, can you come watch our debate finals? Y/N and Mingyu are also here…

Hyung, let’s call Y/N for your birthday too! She’s your friend too…

Hyung, can you help me choose which photos to post for Y/N’s birthday? I can’t choose, she’s too cute in all of them…

And he had saved all the photos. You were not just cute in all of them, but also the most elegant and beautiful lady he had seen. He was sure he found it harder than Wonwoo to pick just three photos, but he had to suppress the storms that blast his heart from time to time whenever he thought of you.

To think that you were in his arms now, waking up on a beautiful, clear, warm morning, your soft body shifting against his own. Your bright eyes finally opening to see him, as he continues to smile at you, urging you to wake up so that he could finally see the stars in your eyes, although they were long gone from the skies.

“Good morning, princess.”

You’re hallucinating. Or you’re just still sleeping.

But it feels too real. Joshua’s warm body engulfs you as you wake up.

“Good morning, princess,” he says again when he thinks you haven’t heard him. Oh, but you have.

“Joshua?” your voice is cracked, from sleep and tears.

“Yes, Y/N?”

His voice is like honey dripping from a fountain of all things sweet and delicate.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking at you?”

“What? Why?” you’re genuinely confused as you try to get up, but his strong arms prevent you, and keep you trapped in the warmth of his soft lap.

“Because I’ve waited for thirteen years to see you wake up in my arms. And I’m not letting go now.”

You have to sit up now, so you resist his arms, and sit up, your body twisting to face Joshua.

“What are you saying, Joshua Hong?” A single tear rolls down your cheek, fighting the urge to smile before you’re fully convinced this is real.

“I love you, Kim Y/N. I have, forever. Ever since I realised what love is. I never-”

“What?” Your jaw is open, so he smiles at the sight.

“I never imagined you would like me back.” His voice is softer as he leans closer to you.

You touch his cheek slowly, hesitantly, before completing placing your palm on cheek as he leans into your touch. It’s not real. No. You’re…

“Are you for real?” He smiles again, that angelic smile.

“Is it that hard to believe?”

“Are you kidding me? Joshua! Please don’t joke with me. I’m dead serious!”

“So am I!” His eyes go wide, and you know now for sure.

It’s still so unreal, that you’re suddenly overcome by embarrassment and you hide your face in his shoulder. He chuckles, a melodic sound.

“Y/N, will you have me as yours?”

You can’t even look up at him, unable to look at the way he’s looking at you. The loving gaze in his eyes that makes your stomach somersault. You better get used to it, Y/N, you tell yourself.

“As long as you want me as yours.”

“Always have, princess. And always will.”

“Spend a summer or a lifetime with me

Let me take you to the place of your dreams”

The next few days are a dream. A dream you had never dared to dream for longer than five seconds. But now, it seemed to engulf your entire existence.

For loving and being loved by Joshua Hong is a happy heaven beyond imagination. It’s waking up, in his arms for the first time, on wooden benches in the lawns. It’s waking up next to him, in his arms again, as the sun catches your eyes and breaks your slumber. It’s waking up to the scent of rose and vanilla, which you think is his natural scent even without any perfume.

It’s also sleeping in his warm embrace. It’s sleeping with minimal clothes but still feeling hot in the night because of how closely your bodies are entangled. It’s sleeping with your faces touching each others, so close you’re breathing in the carbon dioxide he is exhaling.

It’s an elixir that adds a million years to your life.

It’s a honeymoon phase you know will never end. Not as long as Joshua Hong looks at you with the edges of his eyes crinkling up in explicable fondness, when you explain to him why it’s not correct to use each other’s toothbrushes. Not as long as he kisses you all over your neck and shoulders, complaining about how you had teased him for months in your tank tops. Not as long as he knocks out the breath from your lungs whenever you look at him, and you know that’s a feeling that’s never going to go away.

Or maybe it is just the happiness of Chuseok that permeates into you now, making you feel happier than ever.

Joshua knows this is what a dream coming true looks like. It looks like you wearing the softest, fluffiest yellow hanbok, designed to match with his own golden hanbok. Your hair is pushed back, revealing your full cheeks even more prominently, and when you smile, you look like the cutest strawberry.

As you walk up to him, still blushing, as the flashes of the cameras go off, he whispers, “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. I’m so lucky to be your husband.”

“Shut up! Don’t make me more shy than I already am.”

He latches his own arm to yours as you both bow to the crowds waiting ahead of you to open the celebrations for the day.

“I love it when you’re shyly blushing like that. Boosts my ego like nothing else.”

“God, Joshua Hong! You menace!”

“I know,” he whispers later at night, in your ears, almost a low growl, when you say the words again to him, but the annoyance in your voice is now overcome by a desperate neediness that not just boosts his ego but also shoots straight to his dick. For Joshua can’t think without his dick these days. Not when he strips you out of the hanbok, thanking god you had hidden up your curves all day, because if he knew you were wearing his favourite pearly white bra today, he’d not be able to function all day. Not when he kisses your nipples with growing fondness, having quickly realised how sensitive your breasts were. Not when his fingers slide easily into your wet cunt, almost like a habit now after the last few nights.

He can cry thinking of how many times he’s imagined this, but when finally sinks himself into you, he loses it. Every fucking time he does it, he loses it.

Tonight, he flips you to sit you down on him, and your eyes are going wide at the new angle, and you try bouncing on him, eager to make him feel good. And you are making him feel amazing, especially when he feels your breasts bounce on his face as he licks the valley between them. But he knows you’re getting tired with how many times his dick slips out when you raise yourself and you have to push yourself back again.

“Let me help you, baby.” And he thrusts himself up into you, causing a scream to leave your mouth, as you lean back against his knees. “You feel so good, Josh! Aaah- aah-” he cuts off your words and makes them into moans with his continuous thrusts. He whispers little words of encouragement to bring your orgasm faster as he feels himself getting closer with every little clench of your cunt. And when you finally cum, he shakes all over and cums into you too. Thank god you gave him the green light to fuck you raw, as you were habituated to your birth control pills.

“I love you,” he says even later into the night, when he’s kissing you again, the post-orgasm bliss dissipating into a soft love that seals you both into a bubble of love that he thinks can never be broken.

“I love you too, Joshua.” You kiss his forehead, and wrap your legs around him. As he feels his breathing stabilise against your own, he knows he wants nothing else from life.

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xiaq · 2 months

Text

I got another raise today. Praise for my contributions to my team, validation for my hard work, and a clear overview of what my continued progression in my company could look like. I celebrated by taking the afternoon off to nap and read in bed with my husband. I painted some swatches in the space that will soon be my library in the basement of our new home. I talked to my publisher about the process of turning my 3 published books into audio books. And now I'm in the living room, writing and watching my dog attempt to entice pedestrians on the sidewalk to pet him over the front yard fence.

Next month it'll be two years since I left academia.

It was the hardest and the best thing I ever did.

Three years ago, I was having an existential crisis about my career. I was working 60+ hours a week for embarrassingly little pay as lecturer. I loved my job, but I knew that continuing to work in academia wasn't a sustainable option for me. The thought of buying a house some day was laughable. I'd sworn off relationships. I looked at my writing and I thought there was no chance I'd ever publish anything. I was nearly thirty and I felt like I'd wasted the last decade of my life and I was fighting hard against the sunk cost fallacy that whispered I should just stay. Continue as I was. Let no one know I was drowning in the life I'd always said I wanted.

See, people like to say "it gets better" when people are feeling lost or hopeless. But what they don't tell you is that in order for things to get better you often have to do big scary shit that sometimes feels like walking backward. Sometimes you have to tear things down to the studs before you can rebuild. Sometimes the path to "better" looks a lot like "worse" at first.

I was lucky that my family and friends supported my "worse" phase while I was trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life, interviewing for tech companies and taking fire fighting exams and querying agents/publishers and basically just saying "fuck it, I'll give it a try" to every available opportunity, including dating the guy who is now the love of my life. But "it gets better" requires hard work and bravery and putting yourself out there and bitter disappointment and rallying and leaning on that support system, and trying again.

So, I'm not sure where I'm going with this other than to say, for anyone else who was where I was 3 years back, anyone who feels stuck or hopeless or like they've wasted years of their life on a career or relationship that doesn't love them back: it gets better, but you have to fucking fight for it. So rally your troops. Get your support system in place. Give sunk cost fallacy the finger. And go figure out what will serve you better.

I'm so happy, now. My life is amazing. But it might have been amazing even faster if I'd dropped out of grad school after my first year when I realized that maybe it wasn't what I wanted after all. I wish I'd been brave then. Be brave now.

#mylife #academia #leaving academia #author things #advice #go grab your happiness with both hands #i beg of you

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purplekissinger · 3 months

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I am the pretty thing that lives in the castle

And I pray one prayer - I repeat it till my tongue stiffens - Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I killed you - haunt me, then! Emily Bronte, ��Wuthering Heights’.

Y/N became a ghost instead of Myrtle. She couldn't care less about Tom. He wishes he could say the same. Wordcount: 3k.

At their first meeting, Tom even shrieked a little (as he later justified, solely because Y/N took him by surprise). He crept towards the sinks that bathed in the bluish light of the moon, and did not at all expect that someone would jump at him from the ceiling with a “Boo!”

“Boo,” Y/N said reluctantly and passed through him like a light bluish cloud. Tom closed his eyes, but didn’t feel anything.

“Good evening to you too,” he said, looking at her cautiously. Y/N floated up to the ceiling and was now studying the stucco, running her ghostly finger absentmindedly over the frozen gargoyle masks. “What's new?”

“As you may guess, absolutely nothing,” Y/N responded, “but I like that you’re trying to be polite. It's nice.”

“Do you feel ‘nice’?”

“Not really. I'm using words that I learned in life, but they don't quite describe my experience because I've never experienced anything like this before. I'd rather you be polite than rude, and that's my new “nice.”

Tom looked at her, a luminous spot against the black wall, which trembled slightly, like the wings of a strange butterfly. Y/N died wearing a thin shirt, but there was no longer any way she could be cold or get sick.

“If I didn’t know you were a Ravenclaw, I would have guessed by now,” he said.

“I was different when I was alive,” Y/N said judiciously. “More lively”

“You sure were”.

“No, I mean it. I can't explain it enough for you to understand, but this experience is...changing. Everything becomes so transparent, unreal. If I were the same, I would have already cried barrels of tears and flooded the toilet”.

“There is someone who is eager to do that for you,” Tom said gloomily. “Myrtle has been whining all day long, telling everyone what a wonderful friend you were.”

“Me?” Y/N sounded surprised. “I can’t remember that we were friends. However, I did stand up for her a couple of times…”

Tom kept silent a little longer, angrily tapping his fingers on the broken edge of the sink. When falling, already dead, Y/N hit her head here. They didn't fix the sink, instead, they put a lock on the toilet door, but Tom sneaked in almost every evening.

“Is that why you’re not angry at me for killing you?” he finally asked.

“Well, technically you didn’t kill me. You just released a basilisk, which also didn't do anything against its nature, so it's kind of like an accident. Although I can understand why you didn’t tell anyone about it all,” Y/N said. “No, that’s not the reason why”.

“You are very understanding,” said Tom. “Is it okay if I stay here a little longer? I need to prepare an essay on the history of magic, and tomorrow is the final match between the badgers and Slytherin. All of Hogwarts is shaking”.

“Make yourself at home,” Y/N said indifferently.

She went down to the Chamber of Secrets with him when the time came to seal it. Hovering silently two steps behind him, she looked at the tunnels and rusty gratings that were many, many centuries old, and for the first time something like curiosity was reflected on her transparent face. For some reason this made Tom feel almost happy. Y/N’s curiosity became almost human when, rustling its scales, a huge snake slowly crawled out of the black hole in the wall and surrounded them with a ring, and put its terrible head so as to get a better look at the guests, and hissed in greeting.

“I've read that those who speak Parseltongue can look a basilisk in the eyes and survive,” said Tom, looking down, “but I don’t want to test that.”

Y/N looked fearlessly with her dead eyes straight into the face of the creature.

“Yes, the cost of a mistake would be very high,” she said. “What is your pet's name?”

“Susie,” Tom said quietly. “It's a girl”.

Y/N smiled weakly.

“Hello, Susie,” she said. Susie let out a squeal that sounded more like a laugh. “Nice to meet you. Unfortunately, this is not for long, because we have come to seal the Chamber of Secrets forever.”

“For a while,” Tom corrected her. “Susie, I'll be back, I promise. I don't know when, but I'll be back”.

He closed his eyes and stretched his hands forward. The basilisk poked its terrible mouth into his chest, and Tom hugged her.

***

When Tom returned to school the next year, no one noticed anything, and he even began to think that the ritual did not work, but as soon as he crossed the threshold of the toilet on the third floor, a quiet exclamation was heard from under the ceiling:

“Oh! Tom, what happened to you?”

Like a feather or a petal, Y/N slowly descended towards him. Tom looked at her and thought that flying suited her well.

“Is it that noticeable?” he asked suspiciously.

“You have become very small,” Y/N said, flying around him. “Like this,” and made a small circle with her hands. “Where did half of you go?”.

This is how he learned that ghosts see the effects of Horcruxes.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she promised. “Who was it?”

And Tom told her. About everything, about how he found out who the Gaunts were, about how he found his uncle, about the Riddles, about how scary it was to look at his father’s corpse, because he was so very alike him, about how he made a Horcrux right there while the bodies were still warm. It was easy for him, he wanted to talk, to free himself from every detail, take it out of his head, let Y/N look, discuss, judge.

She was in no hurry to judge. She just said:

“This could backfire on you.”

“How?” Tom suddenly felt offended. He just now realized that he would like her to admire what a cool magician he is, and maybe even clap her hands.

“I know more than you,” she said vaguely. “Not everything, perhaps, but more. Yes, I’m still on the threshold, but from where I’m standing, it’s clear that you acted very rashly.”

“What do you mean by ‘still’?"

She didn't answer.

All autumn, winter and summer he went to visit Y/N, even leaving textbooks in a niche by the window. It was quiet and somehow very cozy there, the light from the window was so gentle, and on sunny days the stained glass windows seemed to light up with colored lights. Y/N was silent for the most part, but seeing her figure out of the corner of his eye and hearing her thoughtful humming under her breath was... nice. This was his new “nice”, because something inside of him began to change inexplicably, irreversibly and horribly.

In winter, he asked her to come to the Yule Ball, and she agreed, and she blew out all the candles and ruined the chandelier. Oh, the chaos!.. And in the spring they celebrated Y/N’s first Deathday Party. For this occasion Tom stole a lemon pie from the kitchen, but Y/N politely thanked him and said that she couldn’t eat that. She fluttered back and forth, he chewed on the pie, they argued about the technique of using Fiendfyre, and it was a nice evening.

“I won’t come back here in the fall,” Tom said suddenly, because in fact that’s all he’s been thinking about for the last few days.

“I know,” Y/N said. “You are in seventh year. I can count to seven”.

“But I’ll come back someday,” he said stubbornly. “I just don’t know when”.

“I think I’ve already heard this once”.

“I’ll come back for Susie too, don’t you worry.”

“And what will we do then, riddle me this?”

“Seize the Ministry of Magic,” he blurted out. “Y/N, I'll miss you. Will you miss me?”

“I would like to tell you something nice in response, but I’ll tell the truth. Maybe I won't be here soon.”

He suddenly felt very hot. Then terribly cold.

“What do you mean you won’t be here? Where are you going to go?” Tom asked in an unnaturally high voice. “Aren’t you here forever?”

“Not really,” Y/N answered evasively. “You see, when I died, I was not at all ready for this”.

“Can anyone possibly be ready for this?”

“You must be ready, Tom. Now I know that. I was confused and made... the wrong choice. Stuck on the threshold. Didn't go any further. But I can step forward at any moment, I just need to think it over carefully and make a decision”.

“Can’t you step back?” Tom asked. He did not put hope into these words, but it sounded nevertheless.

“No,” Y/N answered simply. “I died, Tom”.

He rested his hand on his cheek and watched her spin, arms outstretched, right up to the ceiling, the invisible wind blowing her hair. He said:

“I regret that I didn’t know you when you were alive. I think we could become friends.”

“We could,” Y/N agreed. “But for this to happen you shouldn’t have killed me”.

Tom jumped up sharply and, his burning face hid in his hands, quickly walked out of the room. The door slammed so loudly that the noise echoed throughout the entire corridor.

***

Tom did not soon cross this threshold again.

He walked from Dumbledore's office after the first unsuccessful job interview in his life, he wanted to get out of the castle as quickly as possible so as not to endure this humiliation anymore, but his feet themselves led him to the third floor.

“You have become even smaller,” said a familiar voice, which he had only dreamed about in the morning. Loud, distant, but somehow comforting. “You're barely visible”.

Tom was silent. He looked and still did not believe that he was seeing her again. Finally he grinned and stepped forward.

“But you’re still the same,” he said.

“The same, but not quite,” Y/N objected, going down to meet him. “I thought a lot and almost decided to take a step further”.

“But not yet?”

“Not yet. This is a complex process, and it doesn't get any easier now that I have all the time in the world”.

“What exactly are you doing?” Tom asked, leaning against the wall. A forgotten feeling of comfort covered him in a cool wave. He felt like he wanted to stay.

“I’m thinking,” Y/N said. “A lot”.

“Don’t you need to, I don’t know, take revenge on your murderer?” he asked and realized that it sounded like a request. Lord Voldemort had a lot of requests that day.

“No, thanks,” said Y/N. She looked him up and down with a curious look and added: “It seems to me that there’s not much left of him anyway.”

Tom tiredly sank to the floor and tucked his legs under him. He wanted to talk to her again and again, so that she would answer sharply, but always to the point. He wanted her to scream at him, to rush to claw his eyes out, he wanted her to thirst for revenge.

“I sometimes saw you in my dreams,” he said. “Like we’re friends or something.”

“I have nothing to do with this,” Y/N said. “Have you made any living friends over the years?”

“Wait for me,” Lord Voldemort said without listening to her. He wanted it to sound like an order, but it turned out to be the third request. “Y/N, I figured out how to defeat death.”

“Sure you did”.

“I am not lying. I really fought it all this time and almost won”.

“I wish you would know how stupid you look now.”

“Are you going to listen or not?! I tell you, wait, I will bring you back, I will fix everything, you will be alive again, I will get you out…”

“Promise?”

“Yes, yes!”

“Lord Voldemort's promise?”

She smiled. Unable to look at her, Tom stormed out.

***

The third time he returned to the castle was on May 2, 1998. He walked along the empty corridors of the third floor, and his steps echoed loudly. He was going to congratulate Y/N on her yet another Deathday. In his hands was not a lemon pie, but an Elder Wand.

The door to the girls' toilet was blown off its hinges by the explosion. He crossed the threshold and saw that the stained glass windows were broken, and golden dawn rays were pouring into the room. For a second it seemed to him that the place was empty, that he was late.

“Oh, Merlin!” a familiar laugh rang out. “What's happened to you, Tom? You have become so very small, smaller than a mouse!”

She came down from the ceiling as before, but for the first time he saw her in the pink rays of the sun, and she seemed almost alive. For the first time he saw her almost alive.

“Come with me, Y/N”, he said softly. His hand trembled a little, grasping his wand. “I will bring you back to life. I will give you back everything and even more. Soon I will have the Resurrection Stone, and you will live again”.

She laughed even louder, twirled as if in a dance, and he felt uneasy.

“Stupid, stupid Tom,” Y/N said. “Still don’t get this, do you? Everyone gets smarter over the years, but you seem to only get dumber”.

And no Avada Kedavra could shut her up.

“But I'm glad you came. Really, I am. I wanted to say goodbye to you, Tom. I'm finally making that step”.

“No,” Lord Voldemort said in a changed voice. “Don’t. Don’t you dare”.

“Or else what?”

“Don't do this”, when was the last time he begged for something, pleaded? Was it with her?! “Stay. Stay, Y/N. I told you, I'll bring you back!”

“You forgot the magic word”. Y/N giggled. She sank to the floor and looked at him cheerfully and seriously at the same time. “I feel sorry for you, Tom”.

He had heard it once before, but coming from her it sounded and felt like “Crucio.”

“I have to go, really. There's no time to chat. I’ll tell you one more thing. Soon you will be offered a choice one last time, so please, please, don’t be stubborn. Can you do this for me?”

Tom looked at her desperately, afraid to blink, and still missed the moment when Y/N melted into the air.

***

The empty platform shines white, as if it were covered with snow. There are no trains here. No people, too. The bench blackens on the platform like a wound. A faint whimper came from under the bench.

A girl is walking along the platform.

She is wearing a thin shirt, but there is no way that she could be cold. The blue tie is fluttering in the invisible wind. She hurries to the bench, bends down, carefully takes out the bundle of robes from there, and opens it, and smiles a little and carefully presses it to her chest.

#harry potter #tom riddle #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x reader #voldemort x y/n #voldemort x reader

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louvemione · 7 months

Text

illicit affairs — d. malfoy (y/n's pov)

synopsis : draco malfoy and astoria greengrass are destined to be together, so why does malfoy end up in someone else's arms all the time? specifically, in your arms.

warning/s : angst, fluff if you squint, a bit 🤏 suggestive, swear words here and there, no voldy au 🙅‍♀️, written in first person, not really cheating bc draco n astoria are not dating, pretend that there's only a 1 year age gap between Astoria & Draco

author's note : illicit affairs by taylor swift! i will most definitely write a part two of this 😎

make sure nobody sees you leave

hood over your head, keep your eyes down

third year

Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass. a perfect pair, really. they're destined to end up in each other's arms by the time they finish Hogwarts, they're destined to spend the rest of their lives together and no one was to get in between them.

not even me

I stared at the top of my four-poster bed, nights like this always had me wondering, why am I doing this? why did I even get into this relationship, if you can call it one, that was bound to end within the next few years? why am I risking everything for someone who would end up in someone else's arms? why am I making promises with someone who will fulfill those with someone else?

my head always spiraled with a list of why's. why am I doing this to myself?

the only time I'd stop is when he finally knocks on the door and I'll quietly slip out of my blankets, making sure not to wake my roommates up, slip on my robes and take his hand to spend the rest of the night giggling and trying not to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris.

and the cycle repeats itself the following day.

tell your friends you're out for a run

you'll be flushed when you return

fourth year

"wait! I don't know how to.." Harry stopped mid-sentence, too embarrassed to do so. I snickered as I lead him to the dance floor where the other champions along with their partners stood, "you'll be fine, just follow my lead"

I had fun dancing and laughing with Harry Potter, so much fun that I had nearly forgotten about the fact that Draco and Astoria came to the ball as each other's date.

if Draco and Astoria weren't dancing so close to us, I might've completely forgotten about it.

"you look gorgeous" Draco whispers the words that were meant for Astoria, only for her to hear.

I ended up spending most of my time at the yule ball with Harry and his friends as I tried to avoid Draco and Astoria at all costs.

but my attempts of avoiding him was soon washed down the drain because a graze of Draco's hand against my waist was all it took for me to excuse myself, "hey, uh, I had so much fun with you guys but I'll just go get some air. it's getting kind of cramped here"

when we returned, even if I was back with the trio who was by the way asking why I looked flushed, I see the smirks Pansy and Daphne sent in my direction when they saw Draco's flushed cheeks and lipstick stain on his lips.

take the road less traveled by

tell yourself you can always stop

lie. everyone knew it's a lie when we said, "we can stop this anytime we want"

because if we can, he wouldn't be in my dormitory, crying and begging for me to stay. him and I wouldn't be waking up longing for each other's embrace.

because no matter how many times we say it, the truth is we don't want to stop.

that's why we didn't do anything to stop.

what started in beautiful rooms

Draco and I met in our first year, during the sorting ceremony. him and I were both put in Slytherin along some newly met friends.

our little set up started during our third year, by that time I was already knowledgeable of his family's arrangement with the Greengrasses. yet, him and I carried on with this.

ends with meetings in parking lots

and that lead us here.

in front of my dormitory, where he would come and fetch me for our daily late night rebellion.

and that's the thing about illicit affairs

and clandestine meetings and longing stares

illicit. is this considered as an illicit affair?

yeah, probably. he's bound to marry someone else but he's here with me, in the restricted section of the library where we'd cost at least a hundred points off of our house if we get caught.

"i love you" Draco whispered against my nape, arms wrapping around my body to pull me into a back hug as he pressed my back against his chest.

I turned around, leaving the dusty potions book I was holding on the table beside us, "i love you too" I whispered back, our lips inches away before he finally closed the gap.

yes, I consider this an illicit affair. because if it isn't, why would I catch Draco's longing stares whenever his father requested for him to spend more time with his future wife?

it's born from just one single glance

I glanced at Draco just in time for our eyes to meet as I walked past him and Astoria.

that alone was all Draco needed for him to excuse himself from his seemingly clueless future wife.

but it dies, and it dies, and it dies

sixth year

"let's stop"

"you're drunk" Draco carries me to his bed

"I'm serious. let's stop. you're getting married after next school year so why should we carry on with this?"

an uncomfortable silence surrounds the room and my tears were already falling before I could even stop them, "I'm tired, Draco. It's unfair to all of us, we can't keep making promises knowing we won't fulfill them. I should've done this a long time ago. and in fact, we never should have gotten together—"

"so you're regretting it? everything we did together? you wish it never happened?

"yes"

a million little times

#harry potter #x reader #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco angst #draco fluff #draco one shot #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction

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imminent-danger-came · 3 months

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The 1x00 AHiB -> 4x06 glowup

#this just reminded me I need to make a ''being there for your friends when they need you'' post #because that shit is EVERYWHERE #LIKE THAT'S ALL THEY FUCKING TALK ABOUT #''It's okay sandy! You're always there for us when we need you. The least we can do is be there for you when you need us.'' (4x06)#''No! Mei is my best friend. I'd never abandon her when she needs me—we're heroes! It's what we do!'' (3x10)#''You don't know! We'd risk it for sure! I won't abandon them when they need us'' (4x02)#''As long as I'm doing something to help out a friend- I don't mind what it is! I just want to be there for 'em when they need me.'' (2x08)#''Wukong only values people by how useful they are to him'' (3x08)#''No no honestly—this is exactly what I need right now. I'm trapped under a mountain- but the 6-earred macaque brought me a peach!''#(4x11)#Literally just the shit off of the top of my head #and then. And then that in contrast with #''I get it. I'd do anything for my friends! But at the cost of the world?'' LIKE GOD DAMMIT LEGOS #You took the basic bitch ''Help you friends'' theme and went ''But what if helping your friend hurt others'' like come on man #Hello #Where am I #I'm dying. I'm dying #Okay imma go do hw......I guess....whatever....#lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk parallels #lmk Sandy #lmk Mei #lmk Pigsy #lmk Tang #OH GOD ALSO. ''I will become someone they can depend on...the way I can always depend on them!'' (3x08)#AND #''But you're always there when I need you- so it's time for me to return the favor!'' (2x04)#Which also just ties into ''we'll figure this out together'' as a whole right #what. ever.

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thefallennightmare · 6 months

Text

Just Pretend-four

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: 7k words in this one with so many easter eggs! Can you find them all?!

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98

Malcolm's curses echoed throughout the open space of the venue as he tried to help Chase set up his drums.

"Dude, I'm telling you your doing it wrong!" Chase all but scolded.

"Then do it yourself, man!" Malcolm snapped while letting the symbol drop to the stage.

The loud sound made me jump as I was working on adjusting my microphone stand to my perfect height and with hands on my hips, I narrowed my eyes at the two of them.

"What the fuck is your problem?"

Chase ran a hand over his face with an apologetic sigh. "It's been a long night. The drive here was rough on my back so I got little sleep."

"And Trey's been smoking on the bus so my asthma's flaring up," Malcolm said while throwing his long hair up into a bun.

I frowned at my two best friends when the guilt weighed heavy on my shoulders. Yesterday was a long day with the zoo and then half a day of travel for us to get to our next city, most of us were feeling the exhaustion deep in our bones.

"I'm sorry. Let me talk with Trey about the smoking."

Malcolm was quick to assure me it was fine and almost not worth talking to him because we all knew that nothing would come of it.

Biting my lip, I checked the time on my phone to noticed that we had some time before soundcheck.

"Text me your coffee orders, yeah? I'll go grab us some because I think we're going to need it today."

Jumping off the stage, I threw on the hoodie I had tossed before I started setting up while Chase called behind me.

"Ask the Bad Omens guys if they want anything!"

I waved my hand in the air in a way of saying I was already planning on it and made my way to the backstage area of the venue where I knew Bad Omens and crew were hanging out in the green room. They already had their soundcheck earlier and were just hanging out before having to get ready for the show later tonight. Boisterous voices echoed down the long hallway as I stepped through the door with a small smile on my face.

Noah and Nick were leaning back in their chairs while they played a video game on the system and the small television they brought along with them.

I snuck up behind Noah and covered his eyes with my hands which caused him to call out in a shout.

"Oh, fuck you. No fair!" He averted his head below my hands just in time to see Nick beat him in the level of Mario Cart.

Giggles escaped me in a fit as Noah turned in his chair to glare at me while I highfived Nick.

"You cheated."

I shrugged. "I wasn't the one playing."

The corner of his lips turned up in a smile as he extended the controller towards me. "Want to play the loser?"

I tapped my chin while nodding towards Nick. "I'm pretty sure I'd play the winner."

Noah scoffed. "Only because you helped him win."

"My, my," I tsked my tongue while crossing my arms over my chest. "Are we a sore loser, Noah?"

"The fucking worst."

Folio said as he snatched the controller from Noah and started up a new game with Nick. Noah's eyes burned bright as he continued to smile up at me, memories of our day yesterday at the zoo replaying in my mind. How sweet he'd been with buying things for me and the nickname-fuck, it still gave me chills when I remembered how sweet it sounded coming from his lips.

"Well," I cleared my throat while shifting on my feet. "I don't know about you guys but Hollow Souls desperately needs caffeine. Malcolm and Chase are seconds away from clawing each other's throats out. I thought to come to ask if any of you guys wanted."

Most of them nodded, so I told them to text me the order as I turned on my heels to walk out but noticed Noah rise to his feet, tossing on a hoodie.

"What are you doing?" I asked with a raised brow.

"Did you really think I would let you go by yourself? That's four trays worth of coffee."

"Oh," I hesitated. "You don't have do to that, Noah. I'm sure I can manage."

He ignored me, simply pocketed his wallet and used a claw clip to hold his hair out of his face.

Shit, no man should look that good with a fucking claw clip.

Pushing those thoughts away, I let him lead me out of the room while following close behind. It was a nice afternoon in North Dakota so I planned on walking which Noah didn't seem to mind thankfully. At first, we said little, just letting the comfortable silence fall between us, and as a group of people walked passed me from the opposite direction, I had to walk closer to Noah. Our hands brushed against each other and the same shock that buzzed through me nearly attacked me as I reared my hand away from him apologizing.

"It's alright," Noah smiled, not giving anything away if he felt the spark too.

"So," I finally said after some more silence.

It was killing me. I needed to say something to get a conversation going so I could listen to his voice.

"So," he repeated while dragging out the 'O'.

"I want to say thank you again for yesterday. It's been a long time since I've had a fun day like that," I admitted with a sheepish smile.

Noah looked at me surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Lately I've been focusing so much on Hollow Souls and trying to elevate us to the next level that I haven't found time for myself to do things I love. Although, I love what I do."

"No, I get what you're saying. Some people think that just because we're always working on our career that we must not have a social life outside of it."

"Yes!" I smacked his chest with excitement. "You get it."

He chuckled as we turned the corner to the new block, the coffee shop slowly coming into view. As I read the very long text message of the coffee ordered, I was thankful that Noah came along.

"You know, we still have to watch our movie," Noah reminded me.

"Shit," I said realizing I forgot. "Yes, we do. We should have a movie night where we each choose a movie or something like that. I mean, we're going to be on the road with each other for a month might as well."

I smiled up at him with a bright smile on that Noah gave right back.

"Yeah, definitely. I think I'd have to choose The Scorpion King, I watched that movie so many times because of Godsmack being on the soundtrack."

I stopped dead in my tracks for a moment making Noah as well. "No fucking way. So did I!"

He gave me a teasing look. "Right, that's why you watched it over and over. Not because of The Rock."

My face scrunched up in disgust. "Fuck, no. I prefer my guys with long hair and covered in tattoos."

The air around us tilted on its axis as a red hue crept all over my face when I realized I described Noah as my perfect guy. Everything around us seemed to slow as the two of us stood staring at age other, his tongue pushing against his bottom lip, a low noise coming from the back of his throat.

"Uh, I think I see the coffee shop up ahead," I pointed behind him, drastically trying to get his fiery gaze off of me.

It rooted me in place making me incapable of thinking clearly or making the right choice.

Relcuctantly, Noah nodded slowly, and we began walking in stride with each other.

"So I noticed Trey wasn't anywhere to be found," he spoke slowly, almost trying to test the waters with this conversation.

"Yeah, he wasn't feeling well, so he's sleeping it off," I explained.

"Right," Noah snorted under his breath.

My eyes sliced over to him. "What's that supposed to mean, Noah?"

With a sigh, he stuffed his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. "I'm not trying to upset you. But you have to admit, he's been drunk every night."

"I know," I let out a long breath and kept my gaze straight ahead to the old couple in front of us.

Cleary they were holding hands and taking their time in their afternoon stroll together. The older man leaned over to give his wife a kiss on the cheek and I smiled warmly when he took off his tan coat to lay it over her shoulders. Even in her red three piece button up jacket and skirt, she must have been cold.

"Are you warmer now?" He asked her while perching his glasses higher on his nose.

She tucked a strand of her ice white hair behind her ears, her own red glasses resting on top of her head.

"Thank you, sweetheart. Are we almost at the coffee shop?"

"Yep," he patted the pocket of his jacket that was slung over her shoulders. "I brought your favorite book to read to you. We only have a little while until you're needed back to the center."

"Angel?"

Blinking rapidly, I looked up to Noah as my body blazed with heat because of my nickname.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"You don't have to answer this but a lot of us are wondering why you're even with him. We all see how he treats you," he said.

I tried to find the anger that should have been festering with the bluntness of his question but it wasn't there.

Maybe because what he's saying is true.

"He wasn't always like this. When we first started Hollow Souls, Trey was vibrant and alive. The last few years have dulled his soul, along with the drinking. But I'm used to it, don't worry. I can handle myself."

"That's not what-."

"Can we drop it, please? With you, the last thing I want to do is talk about Trey," I snapped while coming to a stop in front of the door of the coffee shop.

The way I worded my sentence didn't go unnoticed by Noah whose lips twitched.

"Sure, angel. Come on, let's go inside."

His hand ghosted over the small of my back as he let me step inside of the busy coffee shop. The line had about 8 people in front of us so Noah and I fell in line behind the same older couple from outside.

"Noah, dear," the older lady smiled up at her husband. "I'm going to go grab a seat. Order me a tea?"

"Anything for you, Allie," he mused while leaving a tender kiss on her forehead.

I looked up towards Noah but nearly sucked in a breath when I realized how close we were. He may have towered over me in height but his lips were so close to my face, I could feel his warm breath fan across my own lips. They were plump and pink, almost begging to be kissed.

Ignoring how my heart race pick up and stomach flipped, I motioned towards the older couple in front of us. "Look, its you in sixty years. Same name and all."

Even with a fond smile on his face as he watched the older couple, Noah shivered.

"If I ever lose my hair, I might cry. This has been years worth of growth."

We shared a laugh and moved up in the line, Noah's eyes grazing over the large menu board.

"Have you ever tried a chai tea iced with oat milk?”

I scrunched my face up in disgust. "It doesn't sound appealing. I usually stick to the same drink."

Noah bumped his shoulder with mine. "Come on. It'll be good for you to try new things."

Don't fucking tempt me.

"I don't know," I hesitated.

I hated straying away from things that were so familiar to me.

"I think you’ll love it. Not too sweet, just right. It’s got everything you want. Would you trust me if I ordered it for you?” Noah's eyes practically begged as he pushed out this bottom lip playfully.

"Yes," I rushed out but quickly composed myself. "Sure, but I want whipped cream on top?"

"You can have whatever you want, angel," Noah promised.

We both stepped up to the counter and gave the young girl an apologetic smile as I pulled out on my phone.

"I am so sorry," I apologized. "But we have a pretty big order. We'll obviously pay extra since it's a busy time and don't mind waiting until it slows down if you want to make the order."

The young girl, Rey said her nametag, blinked slow as her eyes darted from Noah to me then back to Noah.

"Holy shit," she cursed while breaking out into a large grin. "You're Y/N! From Hollow Souls!"

My heart warmed at how ecstatic she was to meet me. Rey then gazed at Noah once again, with a less ecstatic expression but still star struck nonetheless.

"You're Noah Sebastian! I actually just started listening to Bad Omens because I saw you two were touring together. Enough, Enough Now is my favorite!"

Noah's face beamed with so much pride it was almost adorable.

"That means so much, thank you. Are you coming to the show tonight?" He asked.

Rey's shoulder fell. "No, I tried to buy tickets, but it sold out so fast!"

Noah and I shared a look before I rummaged through my bag looking for something I kept in here exactly for this reason. Ethan, our tour manager, always made sure we had extra tickets for something like this.

"How many do you need?" I pulled out a stack of five tickets.

"Oh, no!" Her eyes doubled. "You don't have to do that. Please don't think I'm not complaining to make you feel bad."

"Please," I assured her with a sincere smile while sliding all five tickets on the counter to her. "I'm about to order ten complicated drinks. It's the least I can do for holding everything up.

Rey eyed the tickets carefully, and Noah urged her with a slight nod.

"Let us get through this rush and we can start your drinks," she smiled while pocketing the tickets.

"Of course," I said then bagan rambling off our very large order.

Once we paid, thanks to Ethan's business card, Noah and I took our drinks that Rey made before the others over to a table in the far corner of the cafe, away from the gathering crowd. Since we would be here for a while, Noah and I decided to drink our coffee while sitting.

His long fingers drummed against the wood of the table, an unknown tune, as my knee bounced up and down with slight anxiety. Ever since tour started, I was never alone with Noah for longer than a few minutes, but now there was no one else around as a buffer if things became awkward.

Noah motioned towards my drink. "Try it."

I rolled my eyes at his eagerness before brining the warm drink to my lips, blowing away some of the heat first. He tracked every movement of my lips as the pursed out almost like I would kiss something.

Or someone.

"Alright, I have to admit; it is pretty good," I set the cup back on the table.

Noah's eyes burned with heat as he stared straight at my lips and suddenly feeling self conscious, I brought a hand to my face.

"What? Is there something on my face?"

"No, you're good, angel," his voice was deep, almost rough, as he finally tore his gaze away from my lips up to my eyes.

Just like every other time we stared at each other, it was full of so much tension but in the best fucking way possible. Behind the dark depths of his pupils, there was this magnetic pull that kept sucking me in no matter how hard I tried to grasp at whatever I could for support.

I cleared my throat to break the silence but Noah's phone buzzed on the table next to his coffee which broke the spell we were under.

"Fucking Keaton," Noah chuckled under his breath as he quickly typed something on his phone.

I nearly choked on my coffee, it burning all the way down my throat, and set the cup back on the table.

"Wait, Keaton? As in Keaton Pierce?"

"Yeah," Noah nodded with a bright smile. "He lost his copy of Super Smash Bro's and was wondering if he could borrow mine but little does he know, that was my copy he lost."

I huffed out a short breath. "Tell him I'm still waiting for the $100 he owes me."

His eyes brightened in surprise. "You know Keaton?"

"Yeah, one of Hollow Souls first tours was Warped Tour. We all got real close with everyone in Too Close To Touch but Keaton and I have this bond."

I was so engrossed in telling the story about how Keaton and I grew incredibly close the summer we were on Warped Tour together that I didn't notice Noah's jaw clench with jealousy until the last words fell from my lips.

"He's like a big brother I never had. He means so much to me," I smiled fondly.

"Keaton's one of my best friends," Noah divulged about how Bad Omens and Too Close To Touch also met on Warped Tour one year.

Running a hand through my long hair, I suddenly cursed myself for not bringing a hair tie, but kept my attention on Noah.

"I can't believe we have a mutual friend but yet never met before! I thought for sure Keaton would try to hook us up," I said.

"Yeah," Noah's voice trailed off as he was deep in thought, not realizng that as he brought his coffee to his lips, some of it spilled onto his sweater.

With a curse, he rose to his feet and pulled it off which in turned caused his shirt to lift as well, showcasing off more tattoos that it shocked me to see he had. The band of his briefs poked through the top of his jeans and with the sharp curve of his v-line, I was practically drooling at the sight of him. Which he quickly noticed because he threw me a smirk as he sat back in his chair.

"You're staring, angel."

"N-no. I was just-." I stammered like a schoolgirl that just got caught staring at her attractive older teacher.

Well, you kind of did.

"I was just surprised to see more tattoos. I though only your arms and neck were covered," I explained while messing with the cardboard sleeve on my cup.

"I've got tattoo's everywhere except my back and parts of my thighs but I plan on covering those spots soon," Noah informed. "Since we're on the topic of tattoos, how many do you have?"

"Oh, shit. I've lost count over the years. I've got them scattered all over and sometimes forget that they're there."

"You know," he leaned back in his chair with a cheeky smile, long legs extended towards me as his foot grazed lightly over my calf. "I'm pretty good at hide and seek. I bet I can find them if you'd let me."

My cheeks blazed with immediate arousal with his sly words and I had to squeeze my thighs together underneath the table, hoping Noah couldn't tell how turned on I suddenly became with this conversation. But two could play at that game. If he could make me flustered, so could I.

"Maybe I'll take you up on that offer someday," I winked while taking another drink of my now cold coffee.

Shit, how long have we been sitting here?

I dared a quick glance over to Rey behind the counter and noticed they were working fast to get all ten of our drinks ready.

The sound of metal scrapping against ground brought my attention back to Noah and realized he had pulled his chair closer to me, something dark filling his eyes. Our hands were on the table, so close they were almost touching, as his fingers began drumming on the wood once again; almost to keep them busy.

"By the way, I don't know if I told you how much I liked you wearing my shirt."

I gulped as my eyes darted from his down to his lips. "Uh, yeah. You-you said that."

He hummed. "I've seen people wear our merch but none of them quite pulled it off the way you did yesterday.

I licked my lips, breathless. "Many people wear your merch, Noah."

"No, angel. It's not the same," his fingers grazed over my knuckles. "It hit you in all the perfect places. It's like you were made to wear it."

Every inch of my body buzzed with arousal and heat with how foreward Noah was being. He was staring so intently at me as if he wanted to sink his teeth into the crook of my neck to drink me in. His nostrils flared slightly.

"You smell good."

I gulped. "Dylan Purple by Versace."

Noah leaned back slightly so I could see all of his face. "I'll have to pick you up a bottle the next time I stop at Sephora."

Holy Hera. What was this effect he had on me? He didn't touch me with his lips but I begged to taste them. Did he wear chapstick? Was it flavored? Would I be able to taste his coffee?

Get ahold of yourself! You're dating Trey.

Clearing my throat, I sat farther back in my chair to create some space between us but that's when I noticed something just underneath Noah's left eye and my fingers raised slowly.

"Do I have oat milk on my face?" he went to wipe a hand over his mouth.

I huffed out a laugh. "No, it's an eyelash. Can I?"

When he looked at my hand, Noah nodded and I gently brushed away the eyelash, it sticking to my finger.

"Make a wish," I said.

"Don't tell me you believe in that?" Noah replied.

"It's tradition, you have to do it."

He shook his head. "I don't believe that. In this scenario, there's only one thing can ruin my wish, but I don’t think I’m gonna let it happen."

I pouted whiel holding my finger up to his lips. "Please? For me?"

Noah slowly licked his lips before he grasped my wrist to hold my hand steady as he made the whole show of closing his eyes and blowing away the eyelash.

"Happy?" He smirked while keeping his grip on my wrist.

"Yea," I squeeked out.

Once again, we were stuck in that trance where everyone else around us faded away into the abyss and the only ones that mattered were the two of us.

"ORDER FOR Y/N!"

Jumping away from Noah, I practically scrambled out of my chair to grab the many trays of coffee.

Fuck! Get it together! He's just some guy flirting with you to pass the time. Stop acting like he'll fall over the edge for you.

The walk back to the venue was quiet and quick thankfully because my mind was running wild with everything that happened back at the cafe. Simply that's all it was; Noah passing the time with jokes. He didn't mean everything he said. And neither did I.

Right.

Ignoring the voice in my brain, I held up the trays to the group of people that sat huddled together on the couch in the green room.

"Fuck, did you two get lost or some shit?" Matt chuckled while taking his coffee from Noah.

"Sorry," I apologized with a grimace. "We went during the rush and told them to take their time making the coffee."

I handed Ethan his tea. "By the way, I handed out the spare tickets to the barista because of the large order. Also, don't come for me for the bill. I've seen the projected sales for this tour and know that you're doing fine."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Y/N. By the way, your boyfriend is looking for you."

Shit.

"I'll go find him in a minute," I said while passing out the rest of the coffee's to everyone.

"I'm right here."

Spinning on my heels, I stared blankly at Trey as a cigarette hung from his lips. His jaw was clenched tight with rage as he took in the scene in front of him; Noah and I holding trays of coffee from the coffee shop. It wasn't hard, even for him, to put the two together.

"How come every time I find you, you're with him?" He pointed towards Noah with his lighter.

"Trey, I'm not doing this with you right now," I said while walking over to the trash can, throwing out the garbage.

"Great, then lets go back to the bus and we can talk about it there." Trey went to reach for my hand but I snatched it away.

"NO!" My voice was louder than it needed to be but I didn't care; I was angry.

Yesterday and this afternoon with Noah were some of the best moments I've had in so long. I couldn't remember the last time I'd openly flirted with someone and enjoyed it. Noah made me feel so good about myself and I refused to let Trey ruin that; again.

"Just because you're my boyfriend Trey, that doesn't give you the right to tell me what to do or who to hang out with. Noah and I were picking up coffee for everyone, that's all."

"Oh yeah," Trey raised a brow. "Where's my coffee?"

"We figured you'd want a vodka instead," Noah said as he came to stand behind me, almost to show his support of me standing up to Trey.

He scoffed while looking towards Noah. "Did you forget the talk we had the other night, kid?"

Talk? What talk?

"You're older than him by two years, Trey. Calm the fuck down," Chase spat.

"Fuck off!" Trey snapped. "You guys are supposed to be on my side with this bullshit."

Malcolm spoke next. "With Y/N, we're sticking with her no matter what."

Trey's hateful eyes took in the sight of me one more time, eyes grazing over the exposed tattoos on my leg. "Cover that shit before the show."

It was as if he took all the negative energy out of the room with him as soon as he left, even some of the high I was feeling from my afternoon with Noah.

Noah noticed my hands shaking and went to reach for them but I stuffed them deep into my hoodie. "I'm going to get some air."

The air I needed ended up being me standing in the bathroom of my bus screaming so loud my lungs burned. I let out every harsh, negative, word that Trey dug into my brain. It was a never-ending cycle with him and I was angry at myself for allowing it to continue. My position in the band wasn't worth all the mental abuse. So why did I continue to stay?

Just get through this tour and then you can figure out your options.

The back halls of the venue were quiet, and I wondered where everyone had gone. Hollow Souls soundcheck was minutes away but I couldn't find Malcolm or Chase anywhere.

I opened the door to the green room but came to a halt at the scene in front of me; my heart pounded wildly in my chest and my breathing became erratic, uneven, as Noah turned around, almost dropping his phone. He was shirtless, only wearing a pair of grey sweats and his shoes, and as much as I tried, I couldn't keep my eyes off of his chest and stomach.

But then realizing what he was doing when I walked in made me lean against the doorframe with a wicked smile.

"Who were you going to send those selfies too?" I questioned.

The sides of Noah's ears burned with embarrassment but he kept his cool. "I have no idea what you're talking about, angel."

Ignoring the way my pussy clenched at the nickname, I pushed myself off of the doorframe to walk into the room.

"Right. Well, whoever gets those pictures is one lucky lady," I said, hiding the jealousy in my voice.

"She could be," Noah responded without a hitch of hesitation.

There it was again. That magnetic pull that seemed to only be around when Noah and I were together. It was unknown and scared the absolute shit out of me.

"Uh," I stammered trying to find my words. "Have you seen the guys anywhere? We need to start soundcheck."

He gave me a confused look. "They're on the stage waiting for you. I figured you would have checked there first."

Oh, right? That would have made more sense than coming to the greenroom first.

I bit my lip. "Yeah, should have figured. Well, see you around."

What the fuck? Why did that sound so awkward?

Not wanting to look even more like a fool, I scurried out of the room and towards the stage where in fact; the guys were waiting for me. I frowned at their impatient scowls and Chase went to throw a stick at me but I quickly ducked to avoid it.

"You realize how late you are, right? Doors open in an hour, Y/N!"

"I'm sorry!" I raised my hands. "I got caught up."

Trey, who surprised the fuck out of me for being here, narrowed his eyes at me. "Let's just get this over with."

As we went on with soundcheck, I noticed Bad Omens merch table was being set up with Noah and Jolly helping. When I sang my parts of the song, I could feel a sense of confidence fill me which strengthened my voice. I could hit notes I couldn't before and found myself not loosing breath as I held a note longer than I normally would.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Noah stop what he was doing to watch with almost a proud smile on his face. Much to my dismay, he was wearing a shirt again, but still wore the grey sweats and I did my best not to let my gaze wander past his waistline.

Trey is right next to you, ya know?

Yet again ignoring the voice in my mind, I turned to Chase with a slight grimace. "Does Malcolm's bass sound off or is it just me?"

Malcolm strung a few strings, which in fact, were out of tune.

"Shit, give me a few minutes and we can run One Night again," Malcolm sighed.

"No worries," I said while pulling out my phone from my back pocket when I felt it buzz. "I'm going to-."

Holy Hera. Hades. Hekate, whichever of the Gods above would listen.

My pupils dilated as I took in the sight of the two new pictures on my phone from an unknown number, barley even registering the next texts that came in.

Yeah, I'd say she's pretty lucky. Enjoy angel. You sound beautiful.

Oh, I think you should wear something a bit more reveling than you usually do, in the most respectful way possible. Give everyone a killer show tonight. Come alive out there.

The words, as sweet as they were, were nothing compared to the pictures of Noah on my phone; the selfies he took earlier. I licked my dry lips and felt a coolness drip between my legs as I clenched them together. Daring a glance over to Noah, I saw him watching me with a stoic smirk on his face as a way of saying check mate.

What a cheeky bastard.

As soon as soundcheck was over, I rushed back over to the bus and riffled through my suitcases, disorganizing the way I had everything packed so I could find what I was looking for. It might not have been too revealing but compared to what I usually wore, this would definitely make some heads turn. Once I was showered, I did my makeup darker than normal and let my hair fall against my back in waves. I slipped into the short leather dress that stopped about mid thigh, the thin straps fitting just right. Even with my knee high leather boots, you could still see the tattoo on my leg.

Looking in the mirror, I couldn't stop the smile that broke out on my face. I haven't felt this good about the way I looked in so long; it made my heart soar with pride.

Checking my phone, I cursed when I realized Bad Omens set was already half way finished and knowing I still had to eat something quick before heading on stage; I made a beeline back into the venue towards the green room. Malcolm and Chase were already there stuffing their faces with whatever food they could find and when they saw me, their jaws dropped.

"Is it too much?" I asked while pulling at the back of the dress. "I just thought-."

"Don't." Chase pointed a finger at me. "You look really good, Y/N. Don't let those thoughts get inside your head, alright?"

Malcolm agreed but kept his eyes a little too long on certain parts of me so I had to smack him in the arm to get his attention.

"Shit, did you say something?"

"My eyes are up here," I pointed to them to make a show of it.

Once we all finished a quick meal, Trey of course nowhere to be found, I sent him a quick text to let him know we would go on soon and to finish whatever he was doing. I probably should have worried about where he disappears too but lately, his whereabouts or the activities he finds himself in didn't matter to me.

Chase and Malcolm ended up leaving the room to go do their own pre-show rituals which left me alone with the camera app open on my phone, really contemplating the hell out of this. It could go one of two ways; he could enjoy it and make whatever this thing between us more intense or he could ignore it completely, not giving a shit.

"Fuck it," I stood with a start and walked over to the mirror.

The same mirror Noah took his selfies in front of.

Trying to find the best angle with the lighting, I snapped a few different pictures and scrolled through to find the best one. Clicking on Noah's contact, that I now saved from earlier, I attached the best picture and typed out a quick message to go with it.

I feel so uncomfortable but I hope your ass is happy.

I let out a quick scream as I hit send, the fear almost making me back out. Bad Omens were still playing, I could hear Noah's screams echo through the thick walls, so I knew it would be awhile till he saw the text. In the meantime, I busied myself with my pre-show ritual to center myself.

Deep breath in. Hold for six seconds. Long breath out.

Deep breath in. Hold for four seconds. Long breath out.

I did this a few times while shaking out the nerves from my hands then started rambling off a few of my lyrics to some of my songs to warm up my voice. By now almost thirty minutes had passed so I checked my phone to see if Noah responded.

Read at 8:34 pm.

So he read it almost as soon as I sent it but didn't respond?

I blinked back the tears while tossing my phone on the couch.

"You're a fucking idiot. What did you expect him to do? Heart it." I muttered under my breath.

"Talking to yourself, angel?"

Turning swiftly on my heels, I saw Noah leaning against the doorframe by his arm. The smile that crossed his lips was the kind that made every part of your body flutter in the best possible way.

"Hi," I said quietly.

"Hey yourself," his hair was falling into his face as he looked around the room, almost happy that we were the only two here.

"How was your set?" I asked while wiping my sweaty hands on the back of my dress.

God, how did one man make me so nervous?

Slowly, almost stalking towards his prey, Noah walked into the room and shut the door behind him. He said nothing, only reached the space to me in three long strides and raised a finger to my shoulder, brushing away the hair that fell across it. Our hips were barley touching but I could still feel the buckle of his belt press against the heat of my core and my bottom lip caught between my teeth to keep the moan that danced on my tongue from slipping out. His long fingers grazed over the bare skin across my collar bone over the pulse point on my throat, letting it linger there, as he leaned into the crook of my neck so he could whisper huskily into my ear.

“I know this is forward, and please forgive me for being bold. But you look sexy as fuck right now.”

A soft moan fell from my lips but I quickly recovered as Noah pulled away so he could look down at me through his long lashes.

Fuck, even his lashes were gorgeous. Every aspect of this man was perfect beyong words.

The confidence I felt from earlier was still surging through me so I wrapped the wooden rosary that hung from Noah's neck around my fingers and gave him a seductive smirk.

"You're pushing the limits, Noah," I teased.

"Oh, am I?"

Slowly, he leaned down towards my lips and I rose on the tips of my toes to reach him because even in my platform boots, Noah still towered over me. We were so close now I could just feel the warmth from his lips on mine before Chase's voice broke through the trance that encased around us.

"Y/N! Where are you! We're about to go on."

"Shit," I cursed while pushing Noah away. "Fuck, I have to go,"

He stepped to the side so I could walk past him but gently grabbed my wrist to stop me. "But seriously, you look beautiful, angel."

I was so worked up that I could have combusted with the nickname alone. Feeling his warm body heat behind me as we walked out of the greenroom and towards the back area of the stage where the rest of my band was waiting.

Including Trey.

Shit.

NOAH

I watched with fury behind my eyes as Trey dragged Y/N over towards the merch area, away from prying eyes and ears. Jolly came up to me with furrowed brows.

"Where the hell did you run off too after we got offstage?"

I locked my gaze onto Y/N's back as she fought with Trey. I wanted to step in to save her but knew that if I tried, it would make things worse. Plus, Y/N could hold her own against him, I've seen it.

"I was with Y/N," I sighed while giving my full attention to Jolly. "I wanted to wish her luck, that's all."

Jolly snorted, not buying my lie for a second. "Right. This is the only thing I'm going to say on the whole subject; Be careful, man. None of us want to see you get hurt especially after."

"Don't," I warned with ice in my voice. "I don't want to hear her name."

"Alright," he squeezed my shoulder. "Just be careful."

I quickly tied my hair back, so it was out of my face. "I don't like the way he treats her, Jolly. If he does that in front of us, what the hell does he do when no one's watching?"

Before Jolly could answer, our merch guy Steven came up to us with a deep frown.

"That guy is such a fucking prick," he seethed. "You guys should have heard the things he said to Y/N."

I nearly pushed past them to go find her but it was Nick now that held a hand to my chest to stop me.

"What did he say?" He asked Steven.

Rage was festering deep in the bowels of my stomach and I knew that if I didn't find an outlet for it soon, I would blow. So instead, I paced in a line backstage, burning a hole into the ground at my feet.

"I could only hear parts but from what I heard, I don't know how she's going to come back from it. It was nasty, Noah. She went up to Veronica their merch girl for something to cover up with but when they had nothing, I let her borrow my sweater."

"What?" I asked, now defeated.

She covered herself up?

Steve sighed. "I never wanted to jump over a table so damn fast to hit a guy. It killed me to see how broken she looked when he left her."

“Noah, you’re going to burn a hole in the floor with your pacing,” Folio's soft voice broke through my rage fulled haze.

"Can you blame me?!" I snapped while throwing a hand towards the stage where Hollow Souls set was about to start. "This asshole keeps getting away with treating her like shit!"

"I don't understand why you care so much? It's not like she's your girlfriend."

My head snapped up to one of our guitar techs, appalled that he had the balls to speak up about a situation he had no clue about.

Sounds familiar.

"Excuse me?" My pupils dilated with anger as I tilted my head towards the tech.

Nick felt the sudden shift in tension so he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Let's get some air, alright?"

The sounds of Y/N's broken voice played through the venue before being drowned out by Trey's guitar and screams as Nick lead me out the back door.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

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